The Opportunity
by BtrixMcG
Summary: AU: Seeley Booth is the CEO of a prominent communications company and one of the most powerful men in the industry.  Temperance Brennan is a brilliant young analyst who comes into his employ and gets far more than she bargained for.
1. Chapter 1

The Opportunity

Seeley Booth is the CEO of a prominent communications company and one of the most powerful men in the industry. Temperance Brennan is a brilliant young analyst who comes into his employ and gets far more than she bargained for.

AU: NC-17, Domination/submission themes, eventually pretty hardcore

Disclaimer: Do these really matter? Oh, ok. I DISCLAIM

Author's note: Thanks for the fantastic reviews, I live to serve. Many of you have mentioned the fact that it doesn't really seem like the B/B dynamic. I got the idea from Spuffy FF (the Spike/Buffy pairing on Buffy the Vampire Slayer). Over in that world they've been writing FF for a long time (hell, I think they invented it!). Because they've been doing it for so long, a lot of the stories have gone waaaayyy off canon, basically retaining the two main characters and throwing out almost everything else. Except for the hot monkey love. So that's what I'm trying out here. Keep reading and reviewing. I like feedback. It tastes good.

Chapter 1

Booth leaned over and pressed the intercom to buzz his secretary, never taking his eyes off the tall brunette seated in front of him, her resume perched primly on her lap. "Ms. Hawley, hold my calls if you will. I'm interviewing and don't want to be disturbed."

A disembodied voice answered in the affirmative. "Certainly, Mr. Booth. Let me know if you need anything."

He turned his attention back to the attractive young woman sitting in front of him. She was about 30, slim, but curvy. Her black suit contrasted with pale milky skin and luminous blue eyes. She had cheekbones so sharp they looked like they could cut glass and a strong assertive chin. Her haircut was a little severe, he thought, the bangs too short, but the rest was lusciously long and flowing over her shoulders. She was attractive. Stunning even. And very, very ripe. He shifted in his seat, feeling his cock come to life.

With a short cough, he cleared his thoughts and without ceremony held out his hand for her resume. She stood and walked over to the desk to hand it to him, her hand trembling slightly. Her pencil skirt hugged all her curves, her legs long and shapely in her high heel pumps, and the shirt under her blazer was creamy silk and lace. The kind of shirt that without the blazer, would be too revealing. He wondered how soft her skin was.

She stood stiffly, for a moment, in front of his desk feeling like an errant schoolgirl. She really needed this job and wanted to make the best impression possible. This was one of the finest communications companies in the world, and getting a job here would be a dream come true. She knew she was highly qualified. She just needed to show it. She cleared her throat nervously, trying to get a hold of herself.

He didn't glance up as her read her resume. She felt awkward standing there, so she returned to her seat. He quickly looked up and admired her backside as she did so.

"I think you'll see, Mr. Booth," as she sat, crossing her shapely legs, "that I'm highly qualified for the job, that I have worked extensively in global communications analysis and am very passionate about my career and would be very excited to work for you. I'm tri-lingual, French, English, and Spanish, and I even know a bit of conversational German, which I understand is important because there is an outpost in Berlin. " She knew she was prattling on, and longed to stop herself. It wasn't helping that this man, her potential boss, was the most attractive man she had met in a long time. He exuded power, his blue pin-stripe suit impeccably cut, blue dress shirt opened at the throat, no tie. Shoes shined and wearing, oddly what appeared to be a big red belt buckle that said "cocky." Interesting, she thought. He seems to have a wild streak. I wonder how he is in bed. She flushed pink and stopped her rampant thoughts. Then she realized with horror she was still talking. "And without expanding into the West Coast market it will be difficult to retain our position as an industry leader and gain revenue in the next few critical years. I can make the kinds of decisions that can lead us to that place."

He was half-listening to her speak, his fingers making a triangle under his chin. He knew he was supposed to be professional, ask her questions about previous positions, but really he was dying to know how she would feel about him bending her over his desk and fucking her. Her legs were bare, he noticed with a flick of his eyes. Maybe she wasn't wearing panties either. His mouth went dry at just the thought of it.

He held up a hand for her to stop speaking, picked up her resume and began reading again. Her heart was beating so hard she thought it might burst out of her chest and into her lap. If she had to go back her old job, she thought, she might just pack up and leave for the Himalayas. She shuddered. Her old boss was smart, but creepy, putting his hands on her every chance he got. HR just laughed when she complained, stating he was harmless and she should just ignore him. She loathed him and had only stayed because she was learning so much.

He interrupted her thoughts. "It seems, Ms. Brennan, that you don't really have any experience in the executive field. Would you like to explain why, exactly, you would apply for a position as an executive vice president without it? Why would I possibly give you this job?" He voice was calm. Measured. But his pulse was thumping loudly in his throat and he wondered is she could see it.

Her heart stopped. This is it, she thought. I'm going to get shot down and have to crawl back to that creep. Or hit the streets and hope to find another job fast. She sighed to herself. That's a long shot in this economy, she thought dejectedly. She took a deep breath and spoke, trying to keep the panic down and appear upbeat and confident.

"Yes, Mr. Booth, this is true, but I think you'll find I'm ready for the responsibility and the …."

He cut her off with a cough and a raised hand. "I'm sorry, Ms. Brennan, but I really need someone ready for this. Someone with years of experience. I can't afford to play professor to student." He smiled at her condescendingly and stood. "I thank you for your time. I'll keep your resume on file and let you know if we need anyone more junior." He looked down at the papers on his desk ignoring her.

She panicked, "Please Mr. Booth, I can prove to you how good I can be." She stood, her hands clenched together, her face flushed and eager.

A wild thought occurred to him. He paused, then looked up, taking in her nervous form. "Well, there is one thing you could do."

"Anything," she said in a rush. She blushed again at his raised eyebrow, realizing how brazen she sounded.

He leaned back in his chair, resting his hands on the armrests. "It would be against company policy and perhaps against the law." His jaw was set, his eyes unreadable.

One part of her brain told her to just say no, no matter it was. But the other part of her brain answered instead. "Um, ok…" she said nervously. "What is it?"

"And it certainly would not be very pleasant for you." His face broke out into a wicked smile. "Or perhaps it would."

At first she thought it might be some kind of menial labor or corporate espionage. But clearly he was talking sexual favors.

"Are you asking what I think you're asking?" Her mouth drew into a thin angry line.

"Oh yes," he said, his eyes never leaving her face. "One month. Devoted to me. Anything I ask. After one month, you'll get a position at a senior level instead of a junior one, a very generous salary, and a 2-month yearly vacation. You'll have a whole division reporting to you and you can even move to any of our 5 offices, here or in Europe, if you wish."

"And I will never ask anything of you again. You will be just an employee. Albeit an employee I'll have fond memories of." The corners of his mouth turned into a cold smile.

Her jaw dropped open, her eyes widened, and she felt her whole body go into a state of shock. Then, with a crash, her face fell and her heart sunk down into her chest. This was not what she had in mind when she thought of moving to the top. Sleeping with a superior was abhorrent to her. She had always relied on her skills, her professional demeanor, and her willingness to work very, very hard. She rose from her chair about to give him a piece of her mind when he cut her off.

"You have one month with me, then one month to prove yourself worthy of the job." His eyes twinkled. "Just so you don't think you are sleeping your way in."

She wasn't sure what to say. Her mind told her to throw her shoulders back and march out the office and straight to the HR department, but her feet wouldn't listen. There was something so magnetic about him. He radiated confidence and sexuality. Her eyes shot to his hands. She had always judged a man's sexual prowess by his hands. His hands were big, slightly calloused, like he did manual labor instead of run a Fortune 500 company. Just looking at his hands, she felt her girl parts gush, her panties growing wet.

"I can't," she blurted out. "It's just not right."

The light immediately went out in his eyes and he walked around to her, his demeanor instantly professional and cold. He held out his hand. She took it reluctantly and was shocked at the lightening bolt that ran from her hand directly to the pit of her stomach.

He dropped her hand. "Well, in that case, it was nice to meet you Ms. Brennan. I hope our paths cross again." He took her elbow and led her to the door. Her legs were jelly and it took every bit of strength she had to walk in a straight line. He went to open the door and she stopped it with her hand.

She turned to him, moving to put her back against the door, her eyes wide as saucers.

"Would you…" she stumbled on the words, half whispering them, "would you hurt me?"

His eyes blazed as he looked down at her. "Nothing permanent.," he whispered. He moved a step closer to her, his chest an inch away and his breath hot on her cheek. "It wouldn't be easy for you though. I like my women very, very pliant." Whatever resolve she had left seeped out of her, her knees going soft, her body seconds from falling softly to the ground.

She held her breath, as his mouth descended to hers, his body moving in to push her roughly against the door. He tasted a little like bubblegum, which, for some reason was very endearing and off-putting. But he smelled manly and wonderful, like the sea. He explored her mouth softly, his tongue reaching out to entangle hers, the heat between them bursting forth in little explosions. Lightening bolts of pleasure shot through her center, and she found herself aching and reaching for him. Her arms came up and clung to his shoulders as he deepened the kiss, his hips grinding her into the door. She could feel how hard he was, pressing against her mound, her thin skirt and his trousers not thick enough to disguise the searing heat. She rocked her hips into him.

His mouth left hers and trailed down her neck, peppering her with hot kisses. He cupped her breast and growled softly. "So perfect," he murmured.

She felt herself turning to goo. If it kept up much longer she'd be a puddle on the floor that would have to be mopped up by the janitor at the end of the day. Her mind was in a lustful haze as he ground against her, his entire body melding into hers. She opened her eyes lazily and over his shoulder saw his office. Then she remembered herself and where she was. She was practically begging this sexy, powerful man for a job and a quick screw. What was wrong with her? She took a deep breath and pushed him away.

"I have to go, I can't do this," she said breathlessly, looking down, unable to meet his gaze, her face flushed and flaming.

He broke from her reluctantly, reaching out to straighten her clothes.

"Of course," he said, the mask of indifference descending again. "It was, um, nice to meet you." He stepped back further from her.

"You too, " she said, feeling stupider by the minute. She had to get out of his office and now. She put her hand on the doorknob when his voice stopped her.

"And Ms. Brennan. Just so you know. That would be the nicest you'd ever see me. Normally I'm not so… kind."

Her body flooded with pleasure as she thought of what this man could do to her.

"Consider my offer."

"Uh…ok," she said stumbling over her words. "Goodbye." She fled from the office, barely managing to walk past all the offices and cubicles without breaking into a run. The elevator was mercifully empty and she sagged against the back wall.

What was that?" she thought. How did something like a job interview turn out to be the most erotic experience of her life?

Booth sat back down and turned to face the wall of windows behind his desk. He looked out onto 5th Ave and sighed, sinking down further into his chair. What had made him make an offer to a woman like that? Normally he kept business and pleasure separate and he had never slept with someone from work. His sexual partners tended to be young, beautiful, and very submissive, exactly the way he liked them. This woman could hardly be called submissive. She seemed assertive, highly skilled and frankly, just right for the job. But he wanted her. Wanted her from the first moment he set eyes on her. And this was the only way he was going to get her.

Plus, making a slave of a woman like that would be challenging, to say the least.

Author's note: Well, what do you think? I hope it's not too out of character. I know it loses some of the awkward, freaky intelligence thing Brennan has, but maybe captures her vulnerability? Reviews please. And don't be afraid to be critical. I'm a tough cookie. I can take it.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Brennan stared blankly out of the kitchen window at the city below. She'd been standing there so long the coffee in her mug was lukewarm, and her hair, freshly washed, was almost dry. Her expression was blank, but her mind was whirling. It had been one month since she'd met him and she couldn't get him out of her head. She thought of him while at work, commuting, brushing her teeth, but especially while showering or trying to fall asleep. Only furious bouts of masturbation allowed her to relax enough to drop off.

One month, but so much had changed. She'd quit her job a week after the interview. She tried again to be nice to her creepy boss, tried to ignore his lecherous fumblings, but ultimately decided life in prison for first-degree murder was worse than being out of work for a while. She did manage to accidentally slam his fingers in the desk drawer while asking him for a pen to sign her resignation letter. That one little act of cruelty made her feel so much better about the whole job experience. She also swore, walking out with her box of belongings, that if she ever had a chance to ruin his life she would. That surprised her, as she was never the type to harbor grudges. It normally took a lot to get under her skin. But since meeting...him...Booth…she had found herself more on edge than normal. Booth. She couldn't even bear to say his name as it brought a flood of warmth to her nether regions and it wasn't always appropriate to sport wet panties.

So for the last few weeks she had taken a much needed vacation. She visited her brother Russ, went to a spa, and spent a week building houses with Habitat for Humanity. Then she trudged back to her apartment and listlessly drummed through want ads. She had plenty of professional contacts that could lead to better prospects, but she lacked the focus and energy to pull herself together to get in touch with them. Mostly she moped around the apartment, occasionally breaking into ferocious rounds of cleaning. All of the kitchen cabinets were sparkling and there was new grout in the tub.

She sighed and looked at the clock. Time to get ready. Brad would be there soon to take her to dinner at some fabulous restaurant she didn't remember the name of. Brad. Nice, dependable Brad. She'd worked with him for two years and had turned him down for dates so many times that she wondered why he kept trying. When he asked again, after she quit, she unexpectedly said yes. There wasn't anything wrong with him really. He was respectful of her to the point of reverence, which was this side of annoying. He was handsome, well-to-do, had attended a good college, drove a Volvo, volunteered, environmentally conscious – blah blah. The Volvo, especially bothered her. It just screamed 2.5 kids. Maybe that was why she really didn't like him. She knew he was looking for a wife. Which was fine. It just wasn't going to be her.

She sighed again and poured the cold coffee into the sink. She shuffled into the bedroom, dropped her robe on the bed and began putting on lotion. She brought the bottle up to her nose and inhaled. It was new, silky and jasmine scented, and very, very expensive. She wasn't the type to blow money on beauty products, but after trying Angela's, she knew she had to have it. It felt like butter going on and the scent lingered for hours. It made her feel sexy and powerful. She wondered if Booth would like it. A voice in her head forcefully cut off the thought. She reluctantly redirected her thoughts back to her soon-to-arrive date. Forget sexy Booth, with the bedroom eyes, and the broad shoulders, and the soft lips, devouring hers.

What was it about him? She was horrified by his offer, genuinely outraged, but had been so turned on, she thought she might spontaneously combust when he kissed her just once. She had never met such a domineering male. Normally she was the one in control. All the men she had ever dated always seemed to be over-the-moon in love with her, so much so that she felt someone had to control the pace of the relationship, lest they declare undying love and start proposing. She rolled her eyes. One good lay and most men are ready to pick out wedding invitations. She thought it humorous that women were always seen as the nesters. Men too, craved domesticity as much as women. But not Brennan. Sex was sex. Great at times, definitely something to be sought after and enjoyed. But it didn't mean anything. Especially something as unappealing as marriage or fidelity.

But Booth. He was something else entirely. She never, in a million years, would have expected to be attracted to someone like him. He should be detested, abhorred, and frankly, should be arrested for what he offered her. But her fantasies had something else to say. They whispered about him fucking her over his desk, tying her up, teasing her, humiliating her. She was embarrassed when she thought of those things and how much they turned her on.

But that was over, she reminded herself. She probably would never see him again. And eventually this lust, this yen would die. I'll find a new job, she thought, continue building my career, and hopefully find a new sexual partner who can ease some of this frustration.

Like Brad, she mused, smiling to herself.

She began dressing, starting with the black lace push-up bra and the matching panties. She stopped and looked at herself in the large mirror over the bureau. Not bad, she thought, throw in a pair of stilettos and I would look like a sexpot. She wondered if he would like it. If he'd run his fingers up her bare thighs and cup her pussy with one of his large hands. She felt her own fingers drum down her stomach and slip into the top of her panties to gently nudge her clit. Her other hand came up and twisted a nipple, and her head fell back, desire surging through her as she thought of his hands on her. Her fingers dipped into her folds, the slickness coating a finger as she dipped in. She glanced at the clock and decided she had time to get herself off, maybe wear off the frustration she was feeling before facing Brad. She dropped onto the bed and closing her eyes, could almost Booth crawl up her body like a lion in the tall grass about to strike.

XXXXX

Booth glanced down at the woman sitting at his feet as he watched the news. His latest arm candy, he thought with a snort. So fitting that her name was actually Candy. He assumed it was some kind of porn star pseudonym, but since she was a Yale grad, it was more than likely a shortened form of Candice. Or something. He had never bothered to find out. She was probably a nice person, but since they both wanted the same thing, dominance and submission, they really didn't talk about regular life. He was her Master. She was his faithful servant.

Except the Master wasn't very amenable to servicing lately. Candy had been shot down countless times over the last month, and had put up with his steadily increasing bad mood. She'd met him at the front door wearing nothing but a dog collar. She'd practically begged to give him a blowjob, and while he couldn't turn it down, he had a hard time concentrating on the woman before him, her head bobbing up and down mechanically as if on a spring. He'd close his eyes and when he opened them he half-wished it was the brunette with the large blue eyes on her knees before him. He wanted to see her at his feet worshiping his cock. He dreamed of taking her from behind, his cock balls-deep in her, pumping away into her soft folds.

He wiped a hand raggedly across his face. He had it bad. He couldn't remember ever wanting a woman so much. The image that kept swimming in his mind was of how she looked splayed against the door, her long brown hair sweeping over her shoulders, her hips tilting softly into his, her hands spread across his shoulders. God, she was lovely. And he had to go and screw it up with his ridiculous proposal. He had played it out in his head a million different ways, of how it could have gone better. Like maybe he should have just asked her out. Or found her a job with a different company so they could date and she could still have the career she wanted. He shook his head. It would never work. He was who he was. He didn't date. He liked what he saw and he took it, by any means possible. It was unlikely he'd ever see her again. A woman like that didn't need a sugar daddy, or a master.

But she did melt in his arms, didn't she? he thought to himself. There is a part of her that wants it. Wants it as much as I do.

Ugh. He shook his head again, disgusted with his weakness, and stood up, dislodging Candy from her perch. "Get ready. We're going out," he said curtly. He strode to the bedroom and closed the door. He had to get out of the house, get some air. And perhaps break it to Candy that it wasn't working out.

As he got into the shower he tried to block all images of Temperance Brennan from his head. He'd spent a lot of time wanking off in the shower lately, but now he was determined not to give into the impulse. He wanted to move on. Maybe, he wondered, it's time for a little self-imposed celibacy. Like after Rebecca. He grimaced. Rebecca. Just thinking of the name set his teeth on edge. Her leaving him. Getting remarried. Moving all the way across the country. And taking his son with her.

After Rebecca he'd sworn off women. Not sex, though. He had that in spades. Plenty of women wanted a man who was wealthy and successful, who was fairly good-looking, intelligent and most of all, in charge. After Rebecca his penchant for the more extreme aspects of sexual dominance had taken a front seat. No more relationships. No more losing control to a woman. He'd had enough of that to last a lifetime. Women were not to be trusted. Well, he smiled, maybe his secretary, Ms. Hawley.

He turned off the shower and toweled down, trying to ignore his half-hard cock slowly springing to life from the friction of the terry cloth, as though it hadn't heard his thoughts on abstaining. Celibacy was going to be tough, considering he'd been jerking off constantly since meeting her. He wrapped the towel around his waist and ran his fingers through his hair. Yes, dinner. A nice restaurant. That would take his mind off things.

When he emerged from the bedroom he saw Candy, dressed, appropriately enough, in a candy apple red mini-dress. When she saw him, her smile lit up her face like a kid who'd gotten a Barbie dream house for Christmas. He didn't smile back, but did gently take her arm in the crook of his and opened the door with his other hand.

As he followed her out to the car he thought with relief, Yes, dinner. A little distraction and I'll feel back to normal.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

"You look really lovely tonight, Temperance," Brad said, a hopeful smile on his face.

Brennan smiled warmly at her date. She'd taken extra care with her appearance, choosing a silk midnight blue halter-top, with cream-colored sailor pants and a small silver necklace with a pendant of a dolphin. Her hair was loose and flowing around her shoulders.

He really is cute, she thought. Handsome, even. She admired his broad shoulders (football in college, he mentioned), sweet disposition (good childhood, loving parents), and stimulating conversationalist (avid New Yorker reader). He was attempting to woo her with his encyclopedic knowledge of French wines from the Loire valley. It was amusing to see how animated his features were as he described how the subtle differences in soil and weather conditions produced certain types of wine. She nodded in all the right places and smiled appropriately when he made funny little jokes. But her mind was miles away, and she couldn't get the image of another, broader set of shoulders on a man that had kissed her until her knees buckled. She shook her head, dislodging the unwanted thoughts and looked at Brad again with determination to like him. She wondered idly if he would be good in bed. Her face flushed and she looked away, moving her hand to fiddle with the tablecloth. When she had wondered the same thing about Booth, it had caused her to flush with desire from head to toe. Here, with Brad, the same question just made her almost clinically interested. Like a science experiment, she thought. She grimaced, bringing up the glass of wine to her lips to hide her distress. Concentrate on your date, she reminded herself. The person sitting in front of you. Not the man you'll never see again. She forcibly brightened, sitting up further in her seat, and asked him about how things were going in the office since she left. This was the perfect topic as it allowed him to talk with minimal input from her, other than the occasional nod, or slight smile. She gave up trying to resist and her mind wandered back to Booth. Where was he right now? Probably making some woman's life a living hell.

Her eyes drifted towards the front of the restaurant. A tall blonde in a skin tight red mini-dress was throwing a come-hither smile over her shoulder at her date as he slipped a jacket from her shoulders. He didn't smile, but gestured for her to follow the maître d. Brennan almost fell off her chair when she saw him. He zeroed in on her at exactly the same moment and she watched as his initial surprise turned to a thunderous look of rage as he noticed her date. The maître d sat them two tables down. Booth held the chair for the woman and then sat down on the opposite side, facing Brennan. He glared at her openly, hostility pooling off him in waves. She picked up her menu and quickly hid behind it.

"We should order, right? I'm famished," she interrupted.

Brad halted mid-story. "What? Oh, oh, yeah. Sure." He picked up his menu and continued talking. "You gotta try the Steak frites, it's amazing."

"Can't. I'm a vegetarian," she answered distractedly, her heart beating so hard in her chest she was sure Brad would notice if he looked up. She could still feel Booth's eyes on her, practically burning a hole in the menu.

"Oh, then, they have this mushroom risotto," Brad said tentatively, "again, I hear it's amazing. This place is known for catering to all sorts of...

Brennan slammed her menu shut, interrupting him. "Sounds great. Listen," she said rising from her seat, "do you think you could order for me? I need to visit the restroom."

She barely waited for his fumbled ok, before she tore off.

Once there, she drew in a ragged breath and leaned heavily against the door. It was clear her two choices were to stay in the bathroom for the rest of the night, or look for one of those tiny windows heroines always seem to climb out of in times of distress.

She breathed in and out heavily, nearly hyperventilating, trying to calm her pounding heart. She closed her eyes and counted to ten. When she opened them again, she felt a bit better She splashed some cold water on her face, checking to be sure the panic was not readily apparent with blotchiness or Alice Cooper-type mascara smears.

As she patted her face dry she wondered why she was acting this way? Who does he think he is being angry because you're on a date? Her mind rattled on and on, listing all the real and perceived injustices he had done her.

But the thought that he did care that she was with someone else sent an illicit thrill through her body.

After a successful pep talk she was ready to go out and ignore him, or at least fake sickness and get out of the restaurant before she made a fool of herself. She smoothed her hair and adjusted her halter-top before throwing her shoulders back and marching out of the bathroom.

She half expected to see him waiting for her outside, and felt a tinge of disappointment when he wasn't. But that's better, she thought, its not as big a deal for him as me. I'm sure he's not even thinking about me, she sniffed, he's probably thinking about his hot blonde.

She barely had time for the words to form in her mind before she felt her arm jerked and her whole body carried away behind heavy red curtains where the coat check would be if it were colder weather. She felt herself whirled around and made contact with a wall with a soft thud. It was dark, but not dark enough to distinguish who had abducted her.

Booth stood towering before her, his hand still on her forearm, burning a mark into her skin. He held his body away from her, like a string pulled taught from a bow. His eyes searched hers for what seemed like an eternity. They just stared at each other as pins dropped and the world stopped revolving. She wondered if she should feel fear, and she did, but it wasn't fear of bodily harm. It was fear of the unknown, of desire untethered; of the precipice she saw looming before her.

He continued to search her eyes, looking for something, some answer to an unposed question. He didn't move a muscle, not wanting to frighten her. Hopefully she would give him some sign. Something that would let him know she wanted this as much as he did. He could feel all the warmth in his body seeping out towards hers, all the molecules in his body leaning in. He could smell jasmine drifting up to envelop him, surrounding his head like a mist. He felt himself vibrating from some unforeseen force, like an earthquake before the tremors reach the frequency of human senses.

The sign came in the form of a small pink tongue darting out to quickly lick her lips. His mouth crashed down on hers, devouring her whole. He tangled his hands in her long hair and pressed his entire length against her, from stem to stern, crushing her into the wall. He thrust his hips into hers so she could feel his desire. Her arms wound around him, pulling tightly, till nearly all the breath was pressed out of her body, and what breath was left was consumed by his mouth.

Booth's hands snaked down her back to cup her ass and grind her into his cock. God, but her ass was perfect, heart-shaped and lusciously round. He couldn't wait until he could see it up-close. A mouthful, or even, perhaps, red and raw from his handprints. He groaned. She moaned into his mouth and brought her hands to his face, deepening the kiss, her tongue thrusting and parrying with his as they vied for control of the kiss.

They couldn't seem to get close enough to each other. Her arms wound tightly around his neck as she pressed her body fully into his. With every thrust of his pelvis he lodged his cock perfectly against her clit, his hands molding her ass to bring her up to the sweet spot over and over. She mewled like a kitten against his mouth and the sound drove him over the edge. His mouth left hers and trailed a line of fire down her throat, his lips searing into her flesh like a branding iron. He cupped one breast and growled as he leaned down and bit down hard on her nipple before sucking it neatly into his mouth through the fabric. She cried out, but his hand came up and covered her mouth. He lifted his eyes to meet hers, dark storms of warning circling within them.

His hand over her mouth and his manhood pressing against her made her feel she was so close to coming, even without direct contact from his lips, fingers, cock. Her hands came to the front of his shirt and wedged in between buttons to find his nipples. She was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath from him, his thrusts quickening. He reached between them and pinched her clit through her trousers. She cried out into his hand as the waves crashed over her sending her spiraling into oblivion. She rode down the wave with his hand muffling her moans and the other gently stroking her slit.

The franticness of the earlier coupling eased, replaced by a languid fluidity like a boat rocking on gentle waves. But his hand remained over her mouth and his eyes locked on hers. The other hand slid under the hem of her shirt to pinch a nipple and he could feel the full weight of her beautiful breasts in the palm of his hand. His eyes never left hers. She was gorgeous. And totally his if he wanted her. He knew it. He could easily pop the button on her pants and have them around her dimpled knees in two seconds. But was that what he wanted?

In a word, he thought, no. This was a woman he wanted to play with. He ignored the warning bells going off in his head that this might be something more than just a game.

He abruptly spun her around and pushed her up against the wall, her face pressed into the velvet curtains. He took a foot and nudged her legs apart and parking himself between them, shoved his cock between the cleft of her ass. His hands rested on the small of her back and with each thrust he ground her down onto him. He reached around to cup her mound, his fingers easily finding her button again. Her mouth opened in a silent O as she pressed herself back into him.

"Why are you here with that idiot?" he asked, grinding his teeth to keep from ripping off her pants and jamming his fingers into her hot pussy. He could feel her heat through the thin cotton pants and it was driving him crazy. And he hated the feeling of being driven crazy by a woman.

She reared back, trying half-heartedly to push him off. "He's not an idiot," she snapped. "He's a gentleman." Their rhythm never slowed.

He growled. "He's an idiot and he's not laying a finger on you if I can help it." He kept grinding his cock into her, nearly desperate for release.

She moaned, her two hands gripping the wall as she thrust back into him. She wanted him to fuck her like some party whore in the coatroom. She wanted him more than any other man she had ever met. She would have followed him to the moon or Siberia if he simply batted an eye.

Her fingers moved to the button on her pants when she felt him pull away. She tried to turn around, but he pushed her body up against the wall and covered it with his.

"Have you thought of my proposal?" he whispered in her ear.

"No," she lied.

"Next Monday, be at my office at 9 AM sharp or expect the offer to be off the table forever."

He tore himself from her and marched out from behind the curtain, leaving her disheveled and completely undone.

After he left, when she could no longer hear his feet on the tile outside, her legs gave out and she slid to the floor in a heap, her body thrumming like an electrical charge without grounding.

She picked herself up and after checking she looked ok in the bathroom, she headed back out to the table, fully expecting to see his mocking face staring at her with dispassionate interest. Here's the woman that let herself be groped by an almost stranger in a coatroom. The shame was almost too much to bear, but she had to see him again. See if he felt even a glimmer of what she did.

But he and his date were gone. 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

She showed up at 9 AM promptly.

She sat in his outer office for a half-hour before Ms. Hawley showed her in.

He looked pleased to see her and told her he would just be a minute. He didn't offer a place to sit, but left her awkwardly marooned in the middle of his office. Her face began to burn as she questioned for the umpteenth time why she was there. Her eyes rested on him. She knew why. To see his face again. When she saw him relief swept through her body as though the week they were apart had been too much for her constitution to handle.

Her eyes scanned his office. He was surrounded on two sides by windows, with another wall adorned with what looked suspiciously like a Jasper Johns painting. And more than likely is, she thought. He doesn't seem like the type for knock-offs.

Her mind drifted back to the past week. The week she would always think of as the week she lost her mind. The proof of which was sitting in front of her on the phone, completely ignoring her.

After seeing him in the restaurant, she had feigned illness and Brad had taken her home without another word. It was obvious she was distressed. She hoped she appeared sufficiently green enough to convince him. Once home she crawled under the covers, expecting a night of restlessness and insomnia, but she slept surprisingly well. Must have been the mind-blowing orgasm, she thought wistfully. She knew then that there was no question of whether or not she would take the job. She would never be able to keep away from him. The problem was how to do it and preserve whatever dignity she had left.

She hit upon the idea when she was reading a National Geographic issue about how people could donate a portion of their paychecks to worthy causes. The idea seized her. What about donating your whole paycheck? He would never have to know. She quickly thought of her savings account and realized she had plenty of money to cover expenses while she indulged herself in this ridiculous fantasy.

From there, the evil genius side of her personality took over and she planned out the whole strategy over the next few days. Donate paycheck, then, at the end of the 30 days, disappear. She had friends in Tokyo and Angela and Jack had an apartment there she could stay in till she got back on her feet. It wouldn't be too hard to start over. There was no reason why she needed to stay in New York. Angela and Jack were in D.C., Cam in L.A. Plus, she didn't think even a city of 9 million people would be enough to hide her from Booth if he was determined to find her.

After that, she went shopping. She assumed slutty submissive executive assistants would need lots of sexy lingerie.

And now she was here and terrified. She wore her best suit, blue gabardine blazer and sleeveless empire waist dress, no hose and high black pumps. She assumed a dress or skirt would be a requirement to allow for easy access. She hoped he liked the lingerie she picked out. Ruby red silk and lace bra and matching boy shorts, which accentuated her long legs. They were already soaking in anticipation. She should have brought back-ups.

Booth kept his head down for the duration of his phone call, trying to suppress the surge of joy he felt from seeing her in the flesh again. He had a hellish week, spent mostly at the office working as late as possible to try and keep her from invading his thoughts. After three nights, Ms Hawley, with pursed lips, informed him she was going home at 6. The look on her face told Booth that she knew exactly what was going on, and would not have her personal life up-ended because of his woman-troubles. He sheepishly dismissed her. She had been his assistant for a long time. There was no fooling her.

So he worked late and alone, ending in the early mornings with a scotch and his feet on his desk staring out at the garbage trucks on 5th Ave.

Candy was long gone, of course. He didn't even shut off the car when they got back from the restaurant, but just told her to run in and get her things. He dropped her off without another word and she didn't say anything until she got out of the car. "You're sweet," she said shyly, as if it wasn't the single most offensive thing she could say to him.

He didn't sleep Sunday night at all, tossing and turning, until finally around 4:30 he got up and went to work. He was counting down the hours until his life started again, either with her or without her.

He told himself that if she wasn't on time he wouldn't see her. It meant she wasn't going to take it or him seriously. He'd rather die than allow a woman to ridicule him like that again. So it was with immense relief when Ms. Hawley buzzed him and told him she was here. Exactly on time.

He finished his phone call and looked up at her dispassionately.

"Good morning, Ms. Brennan."

"Good morning, Mr. Booth."

He sat back in his chair and watched her for a moment. She looked very uncomfortable standing at attention at his desk. Uncomfortable, and positively delectable.

He leaned over, picking up the trashcan and held it in front of her. "Panties, please."

She cocked her head. "I'm sorry?"

He sighed, exasperated. He shook the trashcan at her. "It's a simple request. Take off your panties and throw them in the trash."

"Oh."

She shifted from foot to foot, biting her lip, unsure of how to take them off without completely exposing herself to his gaze. Finally, she lifted the hem of her skirt just far enough, and reaching under hooked two thumbs in the sides and pulled them down till they pooled around her ankles. She stepped out of them and picking them up with one finger, handed it to him. She couldn't look at him, but kept her eyes on the floor. Goodbye expensive underwear, Brennan thought wistfully.

Booth had never seen anything so erotic in his life. Her legs were long and shapely, pale, but not pasty, more moonlit. He felt rooted to the spot, grateful her eyes were on the floor, because if she looked up she'd seem him gaping. He was dangerously close to showing his hand. Get yourself together, he thought. It's just another woman.

He took the panties from her finger and plopped them in the trash. He put it back under his desk.

"I'm pleased you're here," he said casually. "I think it will be a mutually beneficial relationship. First off, a few ground rules." He gestured to the seat behind her, "Please sit."

She sat on the edge of the chair, crossing her legs in front of her.

He eyed her legs. "Number one, no crossing of legs. Your legs should remain apart at all times at hip-width distance." He paused, tilting his head. "Show me," he said quietly, his eyes unreadable.

She uncrossed her legs, and sat up, parting her legs slightly. Just this small gesture sent a low throb through her body. Now she was panty-less and legs parted. Like a buffet, she thought. She wasn't sure she would survive this.

He nodded with approval.

"Second, you'll address me at all times as 'Sir'."

She nodded.

"And finally, you'll do whatever I ask you to."

She paused, fear creeping into her eyes. "Anything?" This might be more than she bargained for.

He stood up and walked around the desk to stand in front of her chair. He leaned over and put his hands on the armrests on either side of her. "Anything I ask," he repeated firmly. His eyes locked with hers, his proximity sending out alarms all over her body.

"But," he said softly, leaning in further till he was fraction away from her ear. "Ultimately, you are in the driver's seat. If at any time you want this game to end, you simply have to say the word 'Uncle'. Got it?"

"Yes," she croaked out. Having him so near was making her body overheat, like overloaded electrical circuits.

"Yes, sir," he reminded her.

"Yes sir," she repeated, her voice little more than a whisper.

"But until then, I'm in charge." His hand passed under the hem of her skirt between her parted thighs and met with her sopping and scorching hot pussy. She felt his breath quicken on her cheek as his thumb circled over her clit and dipped gently into her soft folds.

Her eyes fluttered shut and she held her breath, holding her body rigid as a board. Her hips gave way first, rocking gently into his hand as he stroked her.

He chuckled, pulling his hand out and moving abruptly to his desk. "Well then" he said, his voice laced with humor, "let's get busy." She knew this humor was at her expense. Her face blazed red and she felt a current of anger roll through her body.

He gestured behind her to the conference table set up with a laptop, a pad and paper, and a thick report of some kind.

"Read that and give me an executive summary by lunch." He sat and turned back to his computer, avoiding gaze.

She walked to the table dumbfounded. So she would be doing actual work? Not what she had in mind, but she wasn't going to argue either. She sat down in front of the laptop and picked up the report. Unconsciously she crossed her legs and realized she did so when she heard a soft "ahem" from across the room where she was met with a reproachful look.

She blushed and put her legs in the right position and began reading.

He continued to ignore her all morning. She stole little glances at him from time to time. It was the first good look she'd had of him since the initial interview. He spent a good deal of time on the phone talking to every kind of person, ranging from wealthy shareholders to plant managers in Japan. He had an easy grace about him. The first time she saw him smile she was surprised at the surge of happiness that blossomed within her. He caught her staring at him and his countenance fell, replaced by a sharp look of disapproval. She looked away quickly, burying her head back in the report.

At lunch he left without a word. Ms. Hawley came in, chatting amiably, and asked if she'd like a sandwich from the cafeteria. Brennan assumed this meant she wasn't to leave the office. She smiled politely and said yes.

She was very relieved to realize Ms. Hawley seemed nice and wouldn't be branding her as a wanton hussy anytime soon. That thought, however, was rapidly followed by growing alarm that she must be merely one of a long line of women traipsing through his office looking for a promotion and a good time. Was she just June's Office Playmate of the Month?

Well, a snotty voice in her head cried out, what did you expect? You might have found a way to avoiding branding yourself as a prostitute, but that doesn't mean that he has. You're fooling yourself if you think it's otherwise.

If it was possible to eat angry, she did. She was polite enough when Ms. Hawley returned with lunch, but after she left, her rage boiled over and she balled up the sandwich and threw it in the trash.

She was putting on her jacket to leave when she heard him come in. She whirled around on him in rage, her face hard and etched in lines of stone.

His usual seriousness was replaced instantly by alarm. "Are you ok?"

"I. Am. Fine," she spit out, directing all the indignation she felt in his direction. "I just can't do this. I can't be…I can't be one of many..." the words lodged in her throat she felt the tears begin a slow slide down her cheeks. She put a hand over her eyes to shield her tears from him, the other hand on the table to hold herself up.

He was instantly at her side, pulling her towards him, folding her into his arms. "Shush," he murmured, stroking her hair. "What are you talking about?" He leaned down and looked into her eyes. "Oh, you think I get girls to do this all the time don't you?" He smiled gently, the corners of his mouth rising slightly, with humor but also compassion.

She nodded.

"Sweetheart, this is a first for me as well. I might do this sort of thing in my off time, at home, but not here. Not ever." He knew she probably didn't believe him. "Shall I bring in Ms Hawley to confirm?" He said it half in jest, but was dead serious if it would make her feel better.

She sniffed and chuckled, imagining the conversation. "No, that's not necessary." She knew she shouldn't believe him, but she did. She closed her eyes and inhaled. Being in his arms like this was better than she thought it would be. She felt safe, his large body shielding hers. This was saying a lot for Brennan. She wasn't a small woman herself and would have never expected such peace and comfort in a man's embrace.

"We'll just have to feel our way through it, yes?" He buried his face in her hair, inhaling deeply. She smelled sweet, flowery.

She sighed contentedly, snuggling deeper into his arms. "Yes," she replied.

"Yes sir," he said softly but firmly.

She hid her smile. "Yes sir."

The game was back on.

Sometime after lunch he told her he'd like to hear her executive summary of the report he'd given her that morning.

He had hastily broken off the embrace they shared, moving back mechanically to his desk and began work again. He avoided her questioning gaze. He was very upset with himself for the moment of weakness he had shown her and was determined not to repeat the same mistake. He wasn't sure why he felt compelled to comfort her. Well, he told himself, he hated to see a woman cry. But that didn't answer the bigger question lurking in his mind. Any other crying woman he would have offered a tissue to, or perhaps a chaste hug. But holding this woman felt like a homecoming, a return to someone he used to be. Her body seemed to melt into his, filling all the crevices and holes.

He was a big softy. That was the truth of the situation. He was so disgusted with himself he wanted to kick himself in the balls for being such a wuss. But the only cure for that, he smirked to himself, was a merciless display of authority.

He had her stand at attention at the front of the desk while she gave him a run-down on how an Asian market could substantially increase revenue in the next quarter. He was impressed by her quick analysis and her plan for implementation, but he wasn't about to let her know that. He stood and walked around the desk looking as menacing as possible.

She stopped talking as she watched him draw near. He stood close behind her, without touching and told her to continue. She began speaking again, her tone halting and stilted as she felt him dip his head to nuzzle her neck through the cascade of her hair. His hands came up to remove her suit jacket. After throwing it on the chair behind him, he returned to nuzzling, and began running his fingers up and down her arms lightly. The goosebumps rose immediately and she swallowed hard, her vocal cords frozen in place.

"I said, keep talking." He sounded slightly annoyed that she couldn't follow a simple direction. But how could she when she felt his lips trail a line of kisses under her ear, his hands coming around to cup both breasts in his large hands, kneading. His fingers ran roughly over her hardened nipples. She gasped as he pinched them but kept talking.

"Taiwan and Mainland China show a good deal of promise. Uh, would certainly be nice to import products and services, a fair turnabout since all our processors are exported from there." His hand moved down the front of her dress to cup her mound. "Stop that!" she blurted, batting his hand away, before she realized what she was doing. Booth had begun slowly lifting her dress, his hands sliding along her supple thighs, up to her ass, and back again.

He stopped, but his hands remained on her thighs. "What did you just say to me?"

She froze, certain she had made a big mistake.

He clucked. "Ms. Brennan, you aren't showing me the kind of promise of obedience you displayed during the interview. I expect complete acquiescence. But you don't really seem capable of it."

He whispered in her ear. "You know you must be punished." Without another word he pushed her face first onto the desk and jerked up her skirt. Brennan gasped loudly as her cheek pressed down on the paperwork on his desk.

Her ass was exposed to him, a hint of her pussy peeking out. Long legs, perched on high heels lifted her ass slightly, leaving it entirely open to him. He took a deep breath to steady himself then brought down his hand with a hard whack to her backside.

She cried out, unsure whether it was pain or pleasure or both. With each blow he grew nearer to the opening between her legs. He knew he was hitting her so hard he was sure it would make a mark, but from the way she was moaning and writhing under his hand, he was pretty sure she was enjoying it as much as he was. His cock was so hard it was close to bursting through his pants.

In between spanks, he dipped a finger between her legs. Her pussy was drenched in her juices. He stroked her slit avoiding her clit, his cock nudging up against her leg. He brought his finger up to his mouth. Heaven, he thought, as he tasted her nectar.

She was close to bursting into tears. "Please," she cried out.

"Please what?" he said, pushing two fingers deep into her pussy. He held onto her waist with his other hand, pushing her back into his hand.

"Please," she gasped. She bucked against his hand desperate for release. If she didn't come soon she'd explode. She reached down to stroke her own clit but he pushed her hand away roughly.

"No, no kitten. That's my job. You are not to touch yourself without my permission." He continued his long slow exploration of her pussy, his index finger swirling around her clit lightly. But he was growing as desperate for the union as she was. Without thought he dropped to his knees and buried his face in her pussy, thrusting his tongue in deep to catch as much of her honey as he could. She was delicious, swollen and wet and delicious. He placed a hand under her and tilted her pelvis back so he could suck her clit into his mouth.

Her hands clutched the sides of the desk as she reared back into him, looking over her shoulder in desperation. Her eyes met his with a silent plea. He buried his face further into her hot slit, using his hands to thrust her hips into his face.

He wanted her too much to keep to the plan, which was to slowly drive her mad with pleasure without letting her come. To bend her to his will and make her please him. Now all he wanted was her pussy wrapped around his cock. He stood up, ripped his zipper down and pushed his pants to his knees.

He pushed her legs apart and positioned himself at her entrance, rubbing the head of his cock against her slick opening. "You want this baby? Want my cock in you? " His voice was a hoarse whisper.

"Yes!" she cried, oblivious to the noise she was making. She was delirious with wanting.

"Yes sir!" he growled and pushed himself into her up to the hilt. Stars burst behind his eyes as he began to move within her. She was so hot, so tight, such a perfect fit. He wanted to go slow, savor it. But she was already bucking up against him, her hips urging him to go harder. Faster.

He held on fast to her hips and roughly thrust himself in and out of her. As he looked down at her ass bright red from the spanking, he almost blew his load right there. He closed his eyes and leaned over taking both breasts in his hands.

She was out of her mind now. Her body was on autopilot, feeling him move in and out of her, arching her hips back as far as possible to take in as much of him as she could. It was all bliss. Bliss beyond compare.

Keeping a breast in one hand he reached between her legs and found her clit, flicking it quickly with his finger. Her pussy clenched up tight like a vise, exquisitely strangling his cock. After a moment held longer than time itself, he felt her release, felt the flutter and the pulse, her juices soaking him, running down his balls. His fingers trailed down to stroke where their two bodies were joined, loving all of her shudders and falls as she came down from the high.

He pulled out and flipped her around, picking her up and putting her on the desk facing him, scooting her forward till her ass hung over. He shoved his cock into her again, pumping madly, his balls slapping against her loudly. Papers scattered, pens dropped to the floor as Brennan propped herself up on her arms, her legs coming up to circle his waist. Only grunts and moans accompanied their fucking.

He looked down at her dress with annoyance. "Take it off," he said hoarsely, " I want to see your tits."

She lifted the dress up and over her head and he practically ripped the bra off her. He moaned and leaned down taking a nipple in his mouth, rolling the pebble hardness around his tongue. Her hands tugged at his shirt until he shuffled out of it. She gasped. His body was so perfect. Muscular and fit, but not overly built. He had an honest-to-God six-pack, and watching it in action, tensing and thrusting as his cock moved in and out of her, Brennan felt another orgasm rising up from her toes.

He bucked harder into her, pistoning madly. Her head fell back as she rode him, His eyes raked over her, the sheen of sweat and desire flushing her body. She was gorgeous. He had never seen such perfection.

She lifted her head and gave him a smoldering look, parting her lips like an invitation. He leaned in and captured her mouth in his for a deep and soulful kiss. His fingers found her clit again, kneading it, twirling around the lovely pearl. Brennan keened, her breath panting and raspy. Booth groaned loudly, nearing the breaking point.

Then they both clashed together, breaths joined, mouths fused, and bodies rocking together in an ancient rhythm. Brennan felt like she was close to passing out. Colors swirled before her eyes before blackness moved in swiftly. Only the feel of her fingers on Booth's arms and his cock stroking deep in her quim kept her tethered to reality.

After their release, when the world returned to its axis, he continued to move in her until he grew softer, nibbling the side of her mouth. He moved his head to her chest with a sign and rested while his breath returned.

She clutched at him and stroked his hair when he moved down to lie on her breast. It was such a simple gesture, but so rife for interpretation.

He wasn't sure how long he stayed there, at her breast, but he felt he did a lifetime of thinking. Something was telling him that this was not a game anymore. Never before had he experienced sex like that. Not with anyone. Not with Rebecca. The thought that this was more dangerous than what he had with Rebecca scared the shit out of him. He was man enough to admit that to himself.

When he raised his head from her breast he was a different person. The mask had descended, the warm and passionate Booth replaced by the hard and brittle one. Brennan felt a loss beyond words, the confusion reflected in her eyes.

He unhooked her legs and pushed himself up to a standing position, helping her off the desk. "The, uh, bathroom is right through there." He didn't meet her eyes.

As he leaned over to pull up his trousers Brennan slowly picked up her dress and bra and made her way to the door on the far side of his desk.

Once the door closed to the bathroom she felt tears begin to well up, but fought them back down, calling on anger as a substitute. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of crying. This is what it is, she told herself. Just sex. For him, it's just a game, to exercise a kink. But the thought made her want to wail with grief.

She cleaned herself up, and redressed, with what clothes she had left. Her bra didn't survive. It took a while to gather courage, to walk out of his office and face his smirk, but when she walked out, she found him gone. There was a note on her computer saying he would be out for the rest of the day and to please start work on a plan for the Asian market. He'd see her first thing tomorrow.

The tears came. But this time it didn't matter. He wasn't here to see them.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's note: This is, ahem, the hardcore portion of the story I eluded to in the summary. Most of you won't care, since that's why you're here, but everyone else be forewarned.

Chapter 4

Dear Ms. Brennan,

Good work on the Asian market spec. I need you to work with Stevens in M&A to see if its something that is doable in the foreseeable future. Talk to Ms. Hawley for an introduction.

After that, train that same keen eye of yours on the South American market, Argentina in particular.

I won't be in for the rest of the week, but will be available by email.

B.

Brennan stared at the computer screen in disbelief. A week? He would be gone the whole week? She sank down into her chair at the conference table, but then shot back up. Her bottom was so red and sore she could barely walk. She slept on her stomach last night and her shower this morning was so painful she almost passed out. But she was strangely proud of the bruises. She knew she shouldn't feel so turned on about being marked, but she was.

She wasn't, however, looking forward to having him laugh about the pain she was in. But now she wouldn't see him, and she felt...she searched for the right word...she felt forlorn.

She shook it off and got busy. Work was always her consolation in times of stress. She stacked some books up on the conference table so she could stand and work and later she met Stevens in the pantry, relieved she wouldn't have to sit down.

She was a little worried about meeting people around the office, besides the unflappable Ms. Hawley, of course. Everyone, though, seemed to take her at face value. This is when she knew that Booth was telling her the truth about not mixing business with pleasure. If she was the latest dish, she was sure there would snickers and lewd glances from the men. But nada. All of the employees she met were nice and helpful and all seemed to have a universal good opinion of their boss. She smirked to herself. Taking it out on the ladies are we, Mr. Booth? She wondered, not for the first time, what made him the way he was.

She made her way back to his office and closed the door. It's too quiet in here, she thought. She opened up her email expecting something from him, but her inbox was empty.

She didn't hear from him for the rest of the day.

On Wednesday, her bottom felt a bit better and she considered wearing trousers, but decided against it in case he made a surprise appearance.

He didn't.

On Thursday she received a slew of emails she was cc'd on sent at 3 AM. There was a big screw-up at a factory in China where thousands of microprocessors had been built with the wrong specifications. Each email became angrier and angrier until finally he told her to just take care of it and let him know when it was settled. If he talked to the manager in charge one more time, he'd have his head.

Brennan replied that she was happy to take care of it, whom should she talk to for details, etc. Then at the bottom of the email, she took a deep breath and wrote, when are you coming back? She hoped this was enough of a veiled message to get through to him that she missed him.

And she did miss him. Terribly. She was starting to feel something akin to pain in the pit of her stomach. She knew it wasn't physiological. It was unfulfilled desire. A longing so intense, it woke her up in the middle of the night. She knew she could masturbate to try to lessen the hold it had on her, but she didn't. She didn't want to lessen the hold. She wanted him. The only thing that would cure her would be to have him inside her.

The phone disrupted her thoughts, followed by Ms. Hawley's gray head peeking around the door. "Mr. Booth is on the line for you, Ms. Brennan."

"Thank you", she said politely and went over to his desk to answer it. She almost sat in his chair, but decided against it. He would probably know. Her heart was beating out of her chest so loud she wondered if he would hear it over the line.

"Hello?"

He skipped the pleasantries. "I need you to attend an investor dinner with me tonight at 7," he said gruffly. "I'll pick you up at your apartment at 6:45. Usual office rules apply, but make it more of a party dress." Then he hung up.

A million thoughts ran through her head. Dinner? With him? Investors? He knew where she lived? The usual office rules. She knew what that meant, she thought with a mischievous smile.

She left promptly at 5 and went home to get ready. For a party dress she chose an emerald green jersey A-line dress that fell to her knees and gold strappy sandals. The cleavage of the dress plunged down just far enough to reveal a bit of skin but it was the gathers under the breasts that accentuated her curves. She loved the way the dress swirled around her legs as she walked. She added teardrop gold earrings and a bangle bracket she got on a trip to Indonesia a few years back. She decided to wear her hair down in back, but swept up with a comb in the front. She knew he liked it down.

At 6:30 she was ready. Then for the next 15 minutes she paced from the living room to the kitchen and back, trying not to bite her nails.

At 6:45 promptly, the door buzzer rang. She pressed the talk button. He immediately barked out, "Come downstairs."

The elevator ride down was nerve wracking and seemed to take years. She felt like all her preparation in grooming was being ruined by her nervous sweating and washed-out pallor.

But the look she saw on Booth's face dispelled her of that notion. He couldn't hide his look of surprise and appreciation. For a moment he forgot himself and actually smiled at her. Then he turned around and headed back to the car without waiting for her.

How is it possible she keeps looking better and better? he thought, stomping back to the car. It must be because I've missed her. Or my cock has missed her, he reminded himself firmly. He had spent the last few days trying to play down what had happened in his office on Monday. And he had finally succeeded in taming his thoughts with a fool-proof idea.

Don't touch her.

Don't even look at her if you can help it, he repeated to himself. He decided he would just put her to work, doing the actual job he hired her for. He could have already moved her out of his office into her own workspace, but he wasn't quite ready for that yet. He wanted her close. Why? He asked himself. Doesn't seem like the wisest thing to do if you don't ever want to look or touch the girl. I'd hardly call it a fool-proof idea.

He ignored the voice in his head and started the car once she got inside. "You look nice," he said, not looking at her.

"Thanks," she replied, "so do you." He definitely did, dressed in a grey Hugo Boss suit, light blue shirt and dark blue tie.. The way his suit stretched across his shoulders made her insides ache. She missed him, wished she could tell him, but she had a feeling, based on his demeanor, that it wouldn't be welcome news.

She studied the car instead. It was a black Lexus with black leather interior. It looked like Batman's car. She said that to him, making a joke, but he shut her down with a grunt, his eyes never leaving the road. She faced front again and crossed her arms in front of her. It was obvious that she should just be a good little slave and keep her mouth shut.

Booth felt rather than saw her slowly close down and into herself when she realized he wasn't going to exchange pleasantries. He could, however, talk about work. So he rattled off the cast of characters she would meet tonight, who she absolutely must speak to, who to avoid. Driving helped with not looking at her and they had a pleasant exchange on the way to the event. It made him crazy that she was so smart. The whole situation would be so much easier if she was not his equal in every way.

The event was being held on the deck at the Soho Grand hotel, one of the swankiest hotels in the City. The valet that opened the door for Brennan couldn't help admire the ample length of leg displayed as she got out. Booth who had come around to escort her into the hotel shot him a look that would freeze bath water. The valet lowered his head, chastised, and presented Booth with the ticket.

Booth opened up the door for Brennan but purposefully looked past her into the lobby. Her cleavage was too tempting to avoid up close. He felt like an idiot trying not to look at her, but he assumed it would get easier over time.

Once at the party, he walked her around and introduced her to all the investors and their companions. He was careful not to touch her as they moved among the attendants. As he chatted with them, she watched his face transform from the resolute hardness she was used to, to genial and playful. God, his smile was breathtaking, she thought, feeling the familiar cord of desire run down her body. He looked at her then to explain a private joke but when he saw what was reflected in her eyes, he looked away quickly. He felt himself harden and he quickly excused himself to greet a newly arrived guest. Brennan watched him walk off bewildered. What did she do?

Most of the investors were older, in their late 60s/early 70s, but a few were younger. One of the younger men was a man around 50 who seemed instantly smitten with her. He was a bit taller than her with wavy thick hair that she always thought of as "executive hair." It was a direct contrast to Booth's almost military-style haircut. His suit was expensive, but ill cut, like he had never had it tailored.

"So you are the amazing Temperance Brennan. Seeley has told me much about you." He held her hand up to his lips. "But he didn't tell me how very beautiful you are."

She frowned. Who was this guy? She was tempted to politely tell him to hit the road, but then thought a) he could be an important investor and its my job to be nice to him and b) any attention I pay to him will drive Booth crazy.

She took his arm and asked coyly if he wouldn't mind introducing her around. He was thrilled, putting his sweaty hand over hers and walking up to the next couple. She saw him glance down to ogle her cleavage and she instantly regretted encouraging him.

She didn't have to see Booth to know he was apoplectic. She could feel the waves of anger coming at her across the room. She caught his eye and he looked like he was about to explode. Suddenly, she felt horrible. She just wanted a reaction, some kind of acknowledgement of her existence. She didn't mean to turn him into the Hulk.

At that moment, the bell rang for dinner and she disengaged herself from her admirer with relief heading over to her seat next to Booth. She took a minute before sitting down to admire the view of mid-Manhattan from the hotel's roof deck. The night was perfect, soft and cool, a slight breeze swaying the maiden grass lining the deck.

Booth watched her leaning over the roof ledge to peer at the cars below. A the breeze twirling her skirt gently around her legs. He swallowed hard, remembering those legs and how they felt wrapped around him. She sat down, and put her napkin on her lap. Without looking directly at her, he introduced her to the plump middle-aged woman to his right. Soon all three of them were laughing at the woman's stories. Booth's arm went around the back of her chair and she felt herself warming all over. She leaned back slightly into his embrace, but he immediately removed it, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He remained light-hearted, though, making up an elaborate lie to explain to the woman how they knew each other. He chanced a sly smile at her.

Booth, for his part, was enjoying her company, if he didn't have to think past the next two minutes. He knew she was beautiful and smart, but who knew she was funny, or that she snorted when she laughed really hard? He ached to touch her, hold her hand, run her fingers through his, but he didn't dare. And not just because it would be inappropriate given the professional setting, he thought. He wouldn't be able to stop and he'd end up in the exact same position he was in on Monday. Falling for a woman who would screw him in the end.

He sighed. He just needed the night to end and he'd take her home and get her away from him.

What he didn't expect was Dwight M. "Casanova" fucking Phillips to escort Brennan to the small dance floor that was cleared of tables. He had turned to her to ask about the outcome of the factory mishap to find the asshole leaning over whispering something in her ear. Brennan nodded and laughed, rising to take his hand. She didn't seem to notice how his eyes constantly

trailed to her breasts. Booth glared after her, following her with his eyes as he watched another man fold her into his arms for a slow dance.

"Really, you should just tell her," came a voice to his right. Ms. Oliver smiled knowingly at him.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he lied. He watched Dwight run his hands up and down her waist. He felt his hands clench and curl up into fists.

Ms. Oliver nodded and smiled again, knowing that it was best not to push it.

He ran a hand through his hair. "I need some air," he said abruptly. If he stayed one more minute they'd need to call an ambulance for the guy.

He headed out front, wishing for once that he smoked. Smokers always had the best excuses for ducking out of any kind of event. He walked up a cobblestone street and dropped down on a bench in front of a bike shop.

This wasn't going well. In the short time that he'd known her, he'd given up a perfectly good slave girl, willing to whatever he wanted, when he wanted. He'd given up his office, for Christ's sake. And he'd stop coming into the office! This was getting ridiculous. He either needed to man up and go through on his part of the bargain, or call the whole thing off.

He headed back to the party, his mind made up. He'd just tell her that she was free to go or stay, but he wouldn't ask anything else of her.

But when he headed back in, he didn't see her or the asshole. He looked around in a panic, until Ms. Oliver gently placed a hand on his arm.

"She left with the young man right after you left. I think she thought you abandoned her here." Her eyes were lit up with excitement. She loved a good romance.

He nodded a thank you then raced downstairs, collected his car and drove recklessly to her apartment. As he peered up to her windows he could see they were dark. Had she not come home yet? Or could they possibly be up there fucking? He slammed his hand down hard on the steering wheel, pure rage coursing through his body. He took a deep breath, calming himself. Well, if she was, then that was that. He wasn't that much of a psycho to go barging into ladies' houses pulling strange men off them. He felt all the warmth and a joy he had with her tonight dissolve and disappear at his feet.

He had turned the ignition and put the car in gear when he saw the taxi pull up. Brennan got out of the car, laughing and smiling at what he assumed was the majordomo dickhead. He didn't get out of the car though, which was healthier for him and the guy's legs.

The taxi drove off as Brennan fumbled through her purse for her keys. Booth rolled his eyes. The idiot couldn't even wait like proper gentleman for her to get into her building? He waited till her was inside then he drove away. He didn't trust himself to talk to her at that moment.

And besides, he'd changed his mind again. He was back to keeping her close but not touching. And as soon as he could muster the nerve he'd let her go and just give her a regular job, he would.

Brennan stood in the vestibule of her building and watched Booth drive away, fighting down the panic that was rising in her throat. Why didn't he come in? she thought. Did he just want to make sure I got home safe?

She dragged herself into the elevator and up to the apartment. She shuffled out of her coat, dropped her purse and fell face down on the bed, curling up into a fetal position and staring off into space. The pain was getting worse, like a hole was being worried into her belly. She had felt momentarily better once she was near him in the car, but when he didn't touch her it made it all the worse. And now, lying here, she thought she might die from want.

This isn't the way it's supposed to be, she thought desperately. She was the one in control, right? But she felt helpless to resist him, didn't want to resist him. What she wanted to do was to lie down at his feet and beg for a mercy fuck. She sighed heavily and stood up, methodically preparing for bed and the night's sleep that would never come.

&%#

Friday. Ugh. Brennan was sure there had never been a longer week. She got into the office at 7. Anything was better than tossing and turning. As usual, she took as much care with her appearance as she had since she started, but in getting ready, she just went through the motions: gray blazer and pencil skirt, black silk blouse, no panties, of course, one of the sexy bras she bought, eyeliner, mascara, lipstick, and red wedge pumps.

She was disappointed to not see any emails from him all morning. She would take any kind of contact from him. Even barking out orders or yelling at her. She sighed. Well, she had plenty to do. She took off her suit jacket and hung it behind the door. But her thoughts continued to race. Where is he? He couldn't possibly avoid her for the next 3 weeks, could he? What if he moved her out of his office into her own? Make her into just a regular employee? The thought made her shudder. She wasn't sure she could work for him under those circumstances. It wasn't what she had planned on anyway.

The morning passed faster than she expected. She had a few meetings with M&A, and then a conference call with China, where she woke up the plant manager at midnight to ask him how the processor issue was being addressed. All in all, a good morning. She felt productive, an asset to the company. She buzzed Ms. Hawley and told her to bring lunch whenever was convenient for her. She still kept to the rules he had established on Monday, even if it was something like not going out for lunch, which he had never expressed openly. She also tried really hard to sit with her legs open, but it was difficult in meetings. She assumed he understood that. But once back in the office, she never did. And every time she sat down and didn't cross her legs, leaving that gap, she felt herself grow warm and wet.

She was standing at the window on the phone talking to one of the investors she had met the night before when the door opened, with what she assumed was Ms. Hawley bringing lunch.

"Just set it down right on the table," she said without turning around, "and thank you so much."

She continued talking to the investor, so relieved it wasn't Dwight Phillips. He had somehow gotten her number and called her twice since last night, but she hadn't pick up.

It took a minute to realize Ms. Hawley never closed the door when she left. She turned to close it and jumped back in shock. Booth was leaning against the door with a brown paper sack and an unreadable expression on his face.

"Oh," she said startled.

He smiled at her mirthlessly.

"Mr. Jenkins," she said into the phone nervously, never taking her eyes from Booth's form hulking in the doorframe. "Can I call you back at a later time? My next appointment is here."

He dropped off her lunch at the conference table and then sat down at his desk, turning on his computer.

She hastily ended the call and came over to the front of the desk. She stood for several moments before he acknowledged her.

"Yes?" he said, his voice a sharp edge, impatient.

Now he was here and she had no idea of what to say to him. She bit her lip and steadied herself with a breath. Well, she thought, best to go for broke.

"Is there anything you need me to do Mr. Booth?" Her eyes were wide and innocent and her bottom lip was close to trembling.

Booth shuddered, trying to block his mind from all of the things he did want her to do.

"No, you're fine. Continue with what you are doing." He looked away from her and back to the computer. Now if she would just go away and let him work he'd be ok. Eventually he hoped to get used to her presence so that it wouldn't bother him as much and he could pass the weeks in peace.

Brennan stood for a moment longer at this desk; fully aware she was being dismissed and rejected. She walked, defeated, back to the conference table and plopped down in her chair without another word. Her heart felt like it was torn in two. He didn't care. All that was between them was false, she was exactly what she initially thought she was: a prostitute.

And it was in that moment that she realized she loved him.

With the realization she felt a blossoming, her heart bursting in her chest and gushing into every nook and cranny of her body. She wasn't sure how she knew it, but she knew it from the topmost hair on her head to the bottoms of her feet. She was in love with Seeley Booth. The fact awed her.

She should have known what was going on, but she had never been in love before. She'd felt fondness, sexual passion, and friendship for a few men, but nothing like this. It explained the pain in her stomach and the exquisite yearning she felt when she didn't see him. It explained why she was here in the first place. Had she loved him at first sight? She supposed she had.

She didn't know what had happened to him to make him like he was, but she didn't care. She would do whatever it took to please him. This is what love is, she thought calmly, it's doing anything to make the person you love happy.

She straightened her shoulders and took a deep breath. And if dominance and submission was what made him happy, then it made her happy too. She had an inkling, however, that it turned her on as well. How else to explain the permanent state of desire she was in when she was around him?

She rose from her chair and walked around to his side of the desk. He managed to ignore her until she dropped to her knees beside him. He swiveled his chair around to face her, hoping the look on his face was stern enough to scare her off.

But she looked so lovely and radiant sitting at his feet staring up at him. Her lips were parted slightly and he saw her bring her bottom lip into her mouth to wet it. He felt desire surging through his body and blood rushing to his cock.

"It's ok," she whispered. In his eyes, she saw the pain buried beneath the hardness. It's ok," she repeated quietly, "I understand what you need."

"Anything?" he asked, his voice haunted and strained. He knew she would understand the question.

"Anything," she repeated, her eyes growing cloudy with desire. She reached up and unhooked his belt and unzipped his trousers. His cock was already rock hard and ready for her. Her hand dipped into his boxes and pulled it out, lightly pumping it in time with his breathing. She reached another hand down and cupped his balls, kneading lightly.

Booth gripped the arms of the chair, watching her with hungry eyes, dumbfounded. She looked up at him with big blue eyes and whispered, "Tell me what to do."

He nearly came in her hand right then and there.

"Suck it," he said hoarsely, "suck the head." Her mouth surrounded the head and she pulled up sucking him hard.

"Take it all the way in." She lowered her head until his cock scraped the back of her throat. He groaned and started pumping his hips into her mouth. "Ugh, yeah, that's it."

He suddenly ripped her away from him, and stood up, dropping his pants to the floor and stepping out of them. He sat back down and hands on her face guided her back down to his cock. "Oh, that's good baby. Keep that up. I want you to slobber all over my cock baby." He rocked his hips into her mouth as he felt her spit slide down his shaft. "The balls," he gasped," suck the balls." Her mouth dutifully traveled downwards to suck them one at a time into her mouth, her tongue swirling over the mounds. He took his cock in his hand and began to pump as she greedily swallowed his balls.

She was panting heavily, her body on fire as she pleased him as best she could. Her pussy was throbbing and aching for release, but it was something that could wait. Wait until he said it was time. Her mouth trailed back up and took over where his hands were, her head moving up and down rhythmically. She pulled her mouth off and looking up at him growled, "Fuck my face. Fuck it like you hate me." She wasn't sure why she said that, but she wanted him to let go completely.

Booth groaned as if in agony and took her head in his hands, pumping her head up and down mercilessly without thought of her breathing. All thought was gone. Instinct made him want to explode in her mouth, cover her with his come, mark her for all time as his.

He felt her moan around his cock and it sent him into a tailspin. He erupted, his come sliding past her tongue and into the deep recesses of her throat. He pulled out at the last minute to spray the last bit on her pursed lips, loving the way she opened her mouth to lick it clean.

She continued to lick and clean his softening cock as he sat back, completely spent. He watched her with hazy eyes, exhausted but strangely happy. She knew what he needed. She knew exactly what he could give and what he couldn't. And it made him ecstatic.

"I suppose," he said, his brow arching, "you'd like reciprocal treatment?" He stood and put on his pants.

She blushed. "Only if you think so," she said, then paused dramatically, adding, "sir."

He didn't think it was possible to get hard again so quickly but that 'sir' had his cock already springing to life.

"Let's see," he said gleefully. "I suppose I could just fuck you, but then you'd come immediately wouldn't you?"

She blushed again, a shade redder.

"We can't have that. Or I could make you lie in front of me and finger yourself till you come." He loved how she squirmed around, embarrassed.

"But I'd rather make you suffer a bit. How about we strip you and tie you up?"

She looked at him shocked, but then swallowed and nodded. She stood as he removed her blouse and bra, taking a moment to suck each nipple into his mouth, sending shivers shooting from her breasts right to her womb. Then he moved behind her and unzipped her skirt, helping her out of it, leaving her completely exposed to his touch and his gaze. He bent over and removed her shoes.

His fingers trailed over her trembling shoulders. She was turned on, that much he knew. This wasn't just some kink of his. He had a very willing partner.

He dug through his bottom drawer till he found a handful of neckties. He gently pushed her down till she was sitting next to him, her legs under her, her breasts soft and full waiting for his touch. He couldn't keep his hands off them. He asked for her hands and he tied them together in front of her. Then he tied a gag around her mouth.

He stepped back to admire his handiwork. "That should do it," he said with satisfaction. He sat back in his chair then he picked up her tied hands and helped her scoot closer to him.

Then he picked up his phone and called his attorney.

She sat like that, tied up and at his feet for over an hour. He made a slew of phone calls, to everyone it seemed. He ignored her for the most part, but when her legs cramped up he would offer an arm to lean on while she stretched. Occasionally he would twiddle his fingers in her hair, or reach down and tweak a nipple. Every time he touched her she flushed hot with pleasure. The longer he waited to satisfy her needs the more taut she became, like a violin string about to break. It wasn't going to be long now till she snapped.

He had never seen anything so beautiful as Temperance Brennan sitting by him patiently waiting for her pleasure. He had never felt such power and had never felt such a desire to please anyone like the gorgeous creature sitting by his side. If she wanted to know what it was like to a submissive, he would surely show her.

After an hour of gentle teasing, he decided to ratchet it up a notch. While he was on the phone, he put his hand over the phone and mouthed, "get on your knees and stick your ass in the air. "

She struggled to her knees then put her head down into her tied hands. This resulted in her ass being raised but didn't out any pressure on her hands, like all-fours would. Her pussy lay open to him now, plump and slippery and waiting for his touch. Her hair cascaded out and over the top of her head onto the carpet in front of her, leaving the back of her neck exposed.

And it was this part that his fingers found first. With feather-light touches he trailed his fingers over her neck, tangling a hand in her hair then moving down her back slowly and gently till he reached the curve of her hips. He continued the exploration over the curve of her ass, to the long length of her legs and finally her toes.

And as he played with her he kept up his end of the telephone conversation.

"It's Business 101 Jeff," he said, cradling the phone to his ear and moving both hands now in wide circles over her hips, his eyes entranced by the sight of her pussy drenched and delicious in front of him. "We've got to build and move the goddamn things or we go out of business. Who's running things up there?" He dropped to his knees behind her and pressed himself into the cleft of her ass. She moaned.

He pulled away and she felt a small sharp slap to her backside.

"Hang on a second Jeff," he rose and put the call on hold. She turned her face to the side to see him glaring down at her. "Not another fucking sound. Got it? I'm trying to work. If I hear another squeak out of you, you'll regret it. Remember how you couldn't sit for a few days? Try a few weeks." His tone and demeanor were serious, but his eyes were twinkling.

She nodded.

Thwack! Another blow hit her backside. "How many times do I have to remind you of how to address me? Seriously, Ms. Brennan, you are treading on thin ice."

"Yes, sir," she squeaked out through the gag; lust now running rampant through her whole body. She knew at this point, if he spanked her again, she would orgasm. And she wanted that, God did she want that, but she also wanted to see and feel what heights he could bring her to.

He continued the call, moving to his knees behind her again, this time cradling the phone in his ear and making a triangle with two hands that he framed over her pussy. She couldn't figure out what he was doing until she felt him lean down and give one long swipe of his tongue the length of her slit. She shuddered, and arched back into him.

He alternated talking on the phone with long slow exquisite licks of her quim, each time growing nearer and nearer to her clit without touching. She whimpered and cried sofly into her hands for release.

Booth could hear she cries and it made him harder than steel. He would like nothing better than to get off the phone with the yahoo he was talking to and ram his cock right into her pussy. She was close to breaking, he knew. He was thrilled that he would be the first to give her the most mind-blowing orgasm of her life. He rose and sat back down on the chair, engaging again in his conversation, pretending to ignore the muffled cries coming from the woman sitting at his side.

"Of course it will work, Jeff." He reached down a hand and dipped a finger into her honey. "You know, contact Shelly in Baltimore. She's dealt with this sort of thing before." His finger continued to move slowly into her pussy, until it was up to the hilt. He pulled out slowly, and then added another finger, starting his slow descent back into her hot hole.

She reared back, not caring about the consequences, desperate for friction. He jerked his fingers out.

"No!" he hissed in a whisper, his hand over the phone again. "Listen. I gotta go. Something just came up." He gave her another sharp look. "Yeah, we'll talk Monday. Let me know how it goes with Shelly."

He hung up the phone, reaching down and grabbing a handful of her long hair and pulled her head up roughly. "You really are incorrigible, aren't you?"

Enough was enough. He was desperate for her. He shed his pants then got behind her sliding his cock along the slick opening.

"Whatever you do, don't make any noise", he said roughly, still teasing her with his cock, the head traveling the length of her opening, without dipping in. But her pussy was so swollen and ready for him he couldn't wait another moment and he thrust fully into her. The walls of her pussy pulled him in, pulsating and clutching at him. He jerked out of her and slammed back in again and again. He smashed his hand down with a hard smack on her ass and she froze for a moment before she felt her pussy explode onto his cock and felt a thunderous explosion rattle her entire being. As his hand rained down blows she kept coming and coming, every nerve, every cell of her body rolling from aftershocks.

He bucked into her pulsating pussy over and over, his own orgasm mounting. He desperately tried to stave it off, to give her a bit more pleasure. He thought of baseball and taxes and mortgage rates but he kept coming back to the thrashing beauty impaled on his cock.

He reached under her to finger her clit roughly and he felt her whole body bow into his, convulsing madly. He let himself go then and with a muffled groan emptied himself inside her, the orgasm so intense it made his eyes cross.

Brennan felt her entire body was ablaze. She had never, ever experienced a tenth of what she felt right now. Her entire life had been about control. Controlling her career, her emotions, the men in her life. But now for the first time she felt free. Wonderfully free.

They slowly parted and he fell down on the floor next to her. He helped her lie down next to him, untying her hands and the gag around her mouth. They both lay there panting heavily. She rolled to her side and watched him. He turned his head to her then leaned over and gave her the most soulful kiss she had ever experienced.

He felt himself grow hard again and he moved onto her, his semi-hard cock easily slipping back inside.

They continued the slow exploration of each other's mouths and bodies. The missionary position had never held much excitement for Brennan but now it was the perfect position for a slow easy fuck. She drifted in and out of consciousness but her hips faithfully met his with each thrust.

Booth felt another orgasm mounting. He was surprised it was so soon, but was sad that he wouldn't be kissing and fucking her anymore.

She whimpered into his mouth and her pussy quivered on his cock as she came again. He came right after, spilling himself inside her and melding into the length of her whole body from her hot little mouth straight down to her toes curled around his legs.

Their movements slowed and they eventually came to a rest, his cock, soft now, still lodged up in her.

He dropped his head on the floor next to hers. They both lay panting, waiting for their breath and the world to return to normal.

She didn't want to him to get up. Didn't want to see him raise his head and watch the mask descend again. The mask of indifference and cruelty.

She held her breath, waiting for the proverbial shoe to drop.

But instead, he raised his head and looked into her eyes grinning.

"Want to get something to eat?"


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

They ended up working all weekend. Booth told her it was to solidify the Chinese deal and to take care of the production mess, but they both knew it was because they wanted to screw in the office and make as much noise as they wanted.

And boy did they.

After Indian food on Friday night, he took her home and left her with a chaste kiss on the cheek. It was one of the hardest things he'd ever done, letting her go like that, but he knew he wasn't ready or wiling to go further.

Saturday morning she was expected to be at the office at 9AM sharp. At first they really worked, with only the occasionally hand sliding down to squeeze her ass lightly. Yes, she admitted to herself, she was being sexual harassed at work and loving every minute of it.

Saturday afternoon was reserved for play.

Sunday was more of the same, except the play part extended to include most of the morning. He was cruel, tying her up for hours at a time. He fed her lunch himself, as she was tied to the legs of the conference table. He spooned chicken soup into her mouth, deliberately spilling a good deal of it, so he could clean it up with his tongue afterwards. Dessert included cunnilingus and a creampie that he messily smeared over most of her bottom.

Again, though, at the end of the workday he dropped her off without saying goodbye.

Work the next week included, unfortunately, work. He began to bring her into meetings, introducing her as a consultant who was a specialist in the field of telecommunications development. She loved being in the meetings with him and loved the work. He was thoughtful, listening to the proposals and discussions more than speaking, waiting instead till the end when he would accurately dissect or sum up the conversation. He still had the edge that she had grown to know and love, so the employees were highly respectful and prepared. It was an invigorating environment.

Still Booth found time to torture Brennan as much as he could. On Tuesday he hogtied her on the floor next to his desk and drove a vibrating dildo deep in her pussy. He continued to work, chatting on the phone, but watched her with hungry eyes as she squirmed and bucked her hips, becoming almost painfully turned on with no way to obtain climax. Occasionally the dildo would work its way out and he would matter-of-factly shove it back in to the hilt, giving a few good strokes before laughing heartlessly and leaving her to watch her whimper with desire. After an interminable length of time he decided she had earned an orgasm. She slathered his cock with her mouth to grease it up then he quickly fucked her into a mind-blowing, earth-shattering orgasm. He shot so much come in her he wondered if it would shoot out her ears.

On Wednesday they took 4 showers together in his office bathroom.

It was on Thursday night they had their first date. They had had a busy day meeting with investors, not a moment to themselves. They got finished so late that when they got into his car she expected to be dropped off at home right away. They sat quietly next to each other, each lost in their own internal struggles.

It was excruciating to be with her all day and not be able to touch her, Booth thought. Should he take her back to his house? The thought made cringe. That was a step in the direction of a real relationship. He definitely did not want to take that step.

Brennan felt an achy hollow of longing working its way through her body at the thought of the impending separation. They had gone the whole day without sex and her body was humming for him, practically vibrating off the seat. She wondered if she could offer him a blowjob in the car outside her house. She wanted him inside her anyway possible, even if it brought her no release. She debated whether to invite him in, but decided against it. She couldn't take the rejection she was sure would come.

Finally, without looking at her, eyes on the road he asked her if she wanted to go to a movie.

Afterwards, she wasn't sure she even knew what the name of the movie was, or what it was about. She only knew that their hands were wrapped tightly together and their knees were touching. Munching popcorn and sharing a soda seemed like a very intimate thing to do together.

They went to Chinatown for soup dumplings, which he assured her were a New York must. He spooned dumpling into her mouth and his eyes blazed into hers as they both remembered the fate of the chicken soup earlier in the week.

Brennan fully expected they would have sex after the late dinner. The meal had become more and more sexually charged as they fed each other from the array of dishes before them. Each time she stuffed a bit of scallion pancake in his mouth he would suck lightly at her fingers sending a current of longing from her fingertips to the core of her womanhood.

After the fortune cookies came he leaned over and captured her lips in hers in a long, slow, sensual kiss that seemed to span decades. Their mouths devoured each other creating sparks that could probably be seen for miles. They were the very definition of "get a room."

But he drove her straight home and didn't make a move to get out of the car. He also didn't offer to kiss her or even offer a goodbye. She leaned in anyway and gave him a peck on the cheek, just needing to be near him a few moments longer.

As she was slipping out of the car, she felt his hand tug her sleeve. He looked worried and nervous as he began to speak; his mouth opening and closing several times like a gaping fish.

"I...I have a son," he confided in a low tone, like it was a shameful secret. "He's 7 and lives on the West Coast with his mother."

She managed to squeak out an "Oh!" before she thought better of it. She saw his face close down and the hard shell of the man she first met return. She tried to say something else, apologize for her thoughtlessness, but he waved her off, dismissing her.

She barely slept that night, agonizing over how to make it up to him.

The next day Ms. Hawley told her that Mr. Booth was meeting with clients in the morning but that she should expect him later in the afternoon. She wondered if his disappearing act had anything to do with last's revelation and her unfortunately insensitive response.

When he appeared at around 3 PM, he acted like nothing was out of the ordinary at all, striding to his desk and checking his email and voice messages. Within five minutes of arriving, though, he told her to strip. He leaned her over the desk and thrashed her bottom to pieces with his bare hand. Then he laid her on the floor and titty-fucked her, shoving his cock in her mouth at the end so she could suck out every last drop of his come.

She did all of this willingly, even enthusiastically, but she wished she could give him more. Something more substantial than a titty-fuck and an outlet for his anger.

For Booth's part, taking out all the rage and frustration he was feeling was liberating and he was grateful that she was such a willing partner. But he couldn't help the feeling of wanting to give her more. More what, he wouldn't let himself think about. He should be happy to have a girl he could fuck and not even have to kiss if he didn't want to, but if he was honest with himself, he wasn't glad. He wanted to kiss her and hold her and bathe with her and sleep next to her and wake up with her and watch movies and eat long sexy meals and…

Wait. Jesus Christ, he thought. Am I in love with this woman?

He watched her clean herself up in the bathroom, door open as instructed, putting back on her clothes, fluffing up her hair and reapplying lipstick. Her shirt was still unbuttoned and he could see the curve of a satin-clad breast. Every time he looked at her she took his breath away.

I can't possibly be in love with her, he thought. I don't do love. Not in 7 years had he once been tempted into a relationship with a woman.

Did she feel the same about him? It was hard to tell. She was a passionate lover for sure. She indulged him any kink, getting off on them far more than any other woman he'd been with, even the ones that claimed submission was their "thing."

But he was paying her, right? They had a devil's deal and she was just keeping up her end of the bargain. Right? He huffed to himself, annoyed. Sometimes he wished he had never found out how backstabbing and evil women could be. He wished he could just trust her.

He couldn't trust her, but he was pretty sure now that he loved her. He was totally and completely fucked.

She'd only just gotten cleaned up and dressed before he decided he wanted her again. He told her to strip. She sighed in exasperation, louder than she meant to and dropped her skirt to the floor. He heard her sigh and gave her a small frown, but let it go. His clothes came off too and he beckoned her towards the chair he was sitting in.

She went to drop onto her knees in front of him, because that's where she ended up most of the time, but he stopped her, bringing her onto his lap and straddling his legs. His cock bobbed between them eagerly. He pressed her to his chest and his lips found hers, sucking gently. She wound her hands in his hair and brought him in deeper into the embrace. They moved slowly, languidly, exploring each other bodies. He was gentle but couldn't help taking little nips of her lips, chin, and throat, and making deeper bites on her shoulder as she positioned herself above his waiting cock and sank down with a sigh.

They went slowly this time, both of them looking down, entranced at the sight of where their bodies joined. They rose and fell on each other gently, tremors rocking their bodies with each thrust. His hands came up to cup and knead her breasts while his mouth suckled on her collarbone, surely leaving a mark.

Her head rocked back as she rode him harder and faster, shivers and waves of lust coursing through her entire being. His cock fit her so perfectly, big but not too big, and the way he moved in her! Like he could read her mind and knew exactly what she wanted the moment before she did.

Their pace quickened. His hands caressed the hair cascading down her back then trailed down to grip her ass and bounce her up and down on his thrusting cock. She moaned and moved her hands to his shoulders for better traction. She rode him hard, squeezing him on inward thrusts till she heard him grunt then let out a stream of obscenities.

His balls tightened and he jack hammered into her, drawing out and slamming into her until he felt her arch and cry out softly, "Seely." She quivered and shook, clawing into his shoulders with her nails.

Hearing his name on her lips triggered his own release and he rocked violently into her molten center, his body melded completely with hers, no beginning, no end, only the movement and the incredible feeling of completeness.

She felt different after that. She felt something had cracked, like an earthquake had moved the plates of the earth.

That night, as he drove up to her building to drop her off, he asked to come in. She was thoroughly shell-shocked. She whispered yes in a voice that she hoped didn't sound too desperate. He let her out and looked for parking while she scrambled upstairs to make sure the place was presentable. Her apartment was no great shakes, it was old, but charming. The plaster ceilings were cracked in some places, but they were ornate, which lent it an air old money. Luckily she had inherited her grandmother's furniture: a green velvet, claw-footed couch, a pink chenille easy chair and a mahogany Chippendale dining room table. The entire house was filled with trinkets from her travels. She fancied herself an amateur anthropologist: traveling the world, going on digs, attending lectures on ancient cultures.

The bedroom mirrored the aesthetic of the rest of the house. There was a modest queen-sized bed with a handmade quilt and a vanity piled high and messy with makeup, hair products, jewelry and lingerie. She blanched when she saw it and went to straighten it up when the buzzer rang. Oh well, she thought. Maybe it's better this way. He can see the real me.

When she opened the door the last thing she expected were a handful of blue daisies thrust into her face.

"Found these on the corner," he said matter-of-factly, as if he didn't make the romantic gesture that he did. "I'm always fascinated by the electric blue ones. How do you think they get that color?" He strode in and stood in the living room sizing up the place.

"Nice place," he said with a nod of the head, approving.

He turned to her and said, without further ado, "let's fuck."

&^%9*$

She rolled over and picked up the shrilly-ringing phone, groggy from lack of sleep. She and Booth had screwed practically all night; save the few times they grew hungry enough to stop for five seconds to feed themselves. Finally, they fell asleep in each other's arms, completely spent, each falling into the deep, dreamless sleep you get when you are completely content.

Around 3 AM he woke her with a kiss and told her he was heading home. His eyes were sad but resigned. She understood. This was as much as he could give her right now. Truthfully, he had given her so much. There was something about the way their bodies fit together that seemed so right. She hungered for him the second he wasn't inside her. All night, he had showed her pleasures she had never experienced, sometimes as a master, and sometimes as just a man making love to a woman.

Now though, she could barely keep her eyes open. She was glad it was Saturday. She wasn't one to sleep all day, but she might make an exception in this case. But the man on the other end of the call had a different idea.

"Get up. Get over here. I have a surprise for you."

Did he ever start with the usual greeting? Hello? How are you? What are you up to? No, it was always straight and to the point.

She looked at the clock. "It's 8 AM."

"So? Get up. What? Do I have to go over there and pull you out of bed?"

She purred, sleepily, stretching her arms out over her head. "Mmmm. Could you? I think I need help standing."

His voice dropped an octave. "I'm sure you do after the pounding I gave you yesterday."

She blushed and was sure he could hear it over the phone.

"Regardless," he said. "Get dressed and get over here. It's 8 now. See you by 9."

Then he hung up.

We also need to work on his phone etiquette when finishing a call, she thought, and hung up the phone.

She was kidding about needing help standing up, but when she did, she felt all her girl parts groan with pain. A shower, she thought. Shower, coffee, dress. She kept repeating this mantra till she was ready to go.

He neglected to tell her where he lived, and by the time she figured it out and made it there from Brooklyn, she was fifteen minutes late. She knew she was going to pay for that, but the trains were notoriously slow on weekends. He'd understand that surely. She rolled her eyes. Hardly.

His loft was in TriBeCa in a building that appeared to be a former warehouse for ladies' lingerie, judging from the faded writing on the side of the building. She climbed the steps up onto the loading platform and rang the bell for the top floor.

The door buzzed and she took the elevator to the 5th floor. The door opened directly out onto his apartment.

It was stunning. The walls were brick with large skylights providing the only light in the room. An overstuffed leather chair was the sole piece of furniture in the room. It was deathly quiet.

"Hello?" she ventured, her voice echoing.

She walked through the living room into a sunny, airy kitchen, flanked on one side by a wall of windows. The view was of downtown and the Statue of Liberty. The kitchen was spotless.

She heard music coming from a room beyond the kitchen. It opened out into a large messy office.

Booth was sitting in a chair with his bare feet on the desk leafing through a stack of papers.

He looked up when she entered and frowned. "You're late."

She smiled sheepishly but didn't bother with an explanation.

"Anyway, there's coffee in the kitchen if you're interested." He looked back at the papers, but then looked back up quickly, remembering his manners. "Just give me a minute. Make yourself at home. Wander around."

She got herself some coffee and toured the loft. It was big, like 3 of her apartments big. In addition to the living room, kitchen, and office, there were two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a library, and what looked like a small home theater.

His bedroom had a king-sized bed with plain blue sheets and a duvet crumbled on top. She looked at the big stack of books next to his bed, amazed at the variety: a Lincoln biography, Sports Illustrated magazine, book of best comics of the year, Sebastian Junger book on the war in Afghanistan and several recent copies of the Wall Street Journal.

His bathroom was as big as her bedroom at home. Freestanding tub, blue glass tiled shower with no door and a large vanity and mirror that stretched across the room. She opened a drawer and looked at his shaving implements.

"Find anything interesting?"

She whirled around to find him leaning against the doorframe studying her.

She was just so cute, he thought, snooping around, looking guilty. She was wearing an ivory colored halter dress, her arms invitingly bare. He had only been away from her for a few hours, but already he wanted her again.

She noticed his hungry look and smiled demurely, her eyes downcast. She wasn't sure if she could even have sex again, but didn't know how to tell him that.

He moved slowly towards her, like a predator sizing up his prey and lifted up her chin. "What's the matter baby?" His eyes bore into hers. His palms drew small circles on her bare shoulders.

Every time he called her 'baby' her knees nearly collapsed and she grew instantly wet and swollen. She shifted from foot to foot unable to keep his gaze.

She forced the words out. "It's just that, ah, I'm really sore. From last night." She couldn't look at him. The humiliation was too great.

He smiled, amused at her discomfort. Of course he made the best of it.

"Well, your mouth still works doesn't it?

Her head shot up like a rocket, shock painting her features.

He threw this head back and out a huge roar of laughter. She joined tentatively, not wholly sure he was kidding, but his eyes were full of gentle mirth.

She decided that two could play that game.

"Yes sir. My mouth works just fine. Would you like me to show you?" Her eyes twinkled mischievously as she took a step closer to him, brushing her breasts against his chest.

He drew in a ragged breath. He had been eager for her since he woke up. His dreams were full of her: lying beneath him, her hair spilled out onto the carpet like mermaid in deep water, his cock lodged up in her sweet, plump pussy to the hilt, thrusting away.

She sank to her knees on the bathroom floor and nuzzled her face against the crotch of his pants. Her hands came up to gently cup his balls through the fabric as she rubbed her face up and down the length of his cock. She loved making him hard. Loved pleasing him. And she really loved driving him crazy.

She looked up at him with big blue eyes and said as innocently as possible, "Please sir. Can you put your cock in my mouth now?"

He growled and picked her up by an arm and hauled her into the bedroom. He practically threw her into an overstuffed chair near the window and ripped down his pants. She was panting, frantically shedding clothes, her nipples rock hard and the slipperiness between her legs coating the insides of her thighs.

He took his cock in his hand and guided it to her lips. She didn't open them, but kept them pursed, allowing him to rub in small slow circles around the wet outline.

He tried to push his cock in, but she kept her mouth clamped tight.

"Let me in," he said with clenched teeth, thrusting himself against her mouth.

She ignored him and just kept rubbing her lips against the head of his cock. She massaged his balls with one hand and put her other hand over his and matched his stroke. She wanted him to beg for it. Even if it cost her in spankings later on.

He lifted her head by the chin and looked deep in her eyes. "Please Temperance, I need you."

Her heart melted.

Then he spoke again, "And if you don't open up that sweet little mouth of yours and suck my cock I promise you'll regret it." He smirked.

She rolled her eyes and laughed, "Your wish is my command sir."

He watched as she licked her lips dramatically, getting them as wet as possible. She let him in, inch by inch, swirling her tongue around him as he thrust his hips into her face. He kept pushing until he reached the back of her throat, where he stayed a moment before slowly pulling back out and plunging in again.

She didn't need to ask for instructions anymore. She knew what he needed. She made it dirty, smacking her lips loudly as she popped his cock in and out of her mouth, gurgling when he thrust down her throat. Spit trailed out of her mouth and down his balls, coating her lips and chin in a sheen of sticky fluid.

It was hands down the best blowjob he'd ever had. Especially when she hummed around his cock while jacking him off with one hand and massaging his balls with the other. He jammed his cock into her mouth to the hilt, easing off only when he felt her gag reflex come up. With his hands gripping her hair, he exploded in her mouth, shouting her name, pouring his come into her, till he was spent but still thrusting in her mouth.

A shudder rocked his woke body. He leaned down and kissed her hard on the mouth. She tried to push him away, she was drenched in slobber and now come, but he clung to her, wanting to taste all her juices and his co-mingled.

She assumed that was it. Master wants blowjob, Master gets it. She didn't expect him to lead her to the bed and lie her down on it and crawl between her legs. She flinched a bit, but he assured her it wouldn't hurt a bit.

He kneeled between her legs and wrapped his mouth gently around her sodden pussy, sucking softly. His tongue trailed along the folds, reaching in deep to gather the nectar and passing it along as a healing balm to the rest of her battered and bruised pussy. His hands found her nipples and he whirled them around in his fingers.

She sat up on her elbows and with hooded eyes watched him worship her, every touch gentle and reverent. It felt incredible. No man had ever seen to her that way, with no thoughts of getting her off or getting her ready for intercourse, just languidly exploring and freely passing out bliss. She felt her body sing.

Her pussy was drenched in juices now, and he lapped it up from her pussy like a hungry dog. He licked the insides of her legs and her belly. He nuzzled and suckled her until she could stand it no more and urged him on by tugging his mouth up to her clit.

He didn't need to be told twice. His hands cupped her bottom and he lifted her hips as he feasted on her. Thrusting his tongue in and out of her quivering pussy, she ground her hips fully into his face. She cried out as if in pain, sparks of primal feeling igniting a flame that would soon rage out of control. His tongue trailed up her quim until he reached her clit. He ran a circle around it once before he sucked down hard. She convulsed, her hips rocking and lifting off the bed in time to his suction.

He wanted to shove his fingers into her up to her very core, but he knew she needed more time to recover from last night's sexcapades.

He smirked to himself. But no one said anything about any other holes.

He nipped and sucked on her swollen clit, the hard nub under his tongue at delicious odds with the soft juiciness of her slit. His fingers replaced his mouth on her clit and he stroked her furiously. His mouth suckled at her pussy and at the moment of impact, the moment when he felt her passion rise to its peak he shoved his little finger into her tight little asshole. Brennan screamed his name as she pumped up and down on his finger, every crevice of her body suffused in the fever of rapture. Booth's finger never ceased to stimulate her clit, his mouth lapping up all the nectar that flowed out of her.

It was, hands down, the best eating out she'd ever had.

&^%9*$

After the morning's dessert for breakfast they went around the corner to have a real breakfast at a nearby diner. Everyone seemed to know him. The short-order cook gave a short familiar nod and the aging redheaded hostess gave him a big hug when he came in saying that it had been too long. They took a booth in the back and the waitress brought out coffee right away for them. She kept staring at Brennan like she had two heads. She was about to ask Booth why, then she noticed how the waitress had joined the hostess and the short-order cook behind the counter and all three stared blatantly at her.

Then she knew. He had never brought anyone here before. The thought made her heart soar and she ducked her head into the menu before he noticed.

The waitress came back to take the order before she was ready, so Booth started.

"I'll take the Hearty Man breakfast with sausage," he said, referring to the two egg, 3 pancake special.

She closed her menu. "Me too, minus the sausage."

"You want any meat with that?" the waitress asked without looking up.

"No," she said, "no thank you."

After the waitress left, Booth's eyebrow shot up. "First off, glad to see I've been working you hard enough to warrant a big breakfast."

She blushed.

"What's with the no-meat thing? Are you a vegetarian?" He looked at her skeptically, as if any explanation would be unsatisfactory.

"Yes, I am," she said simply.

"Why?"

So she told him about how meat was bad for the environment and bad for your body, but at the end of the explanation he just waved away her reasoning with a flick of his hand. Their breakfasts were in front of then, and he was pouring pancake syrup all over his plate, coating the eggs, pancakes, and sausage equally. He took a mouthful of sausage on his fork and held it up for her to see.

"But it tastes so good," he said stuffing it in his mouth. His eyes twinkled at her.

She arched an eyebrow. "That's it? That's your counterargument?"

"Yep. Let's just leave it as I won't try to convert you and you won't try to covert me and I'll tease you about it mercilessly."

She gave him a playful slap on the shoulder. "I wouldn't expect anything less from you."

At the end of the meal, the waitress delivered a piece of apple pie without him ordering it. Brennan raised an eyebrow at him and he grinned at her sheepishly. "I have a thing about pie," he explained.

She nodded, and picked up a spoon and took a bite from his plate.

Their playful banter continued over breakfast and in the car on the way to her "surprise." It was amazing how well they got on; uncomfortable lags in the conversion were only present when too much personal information was going to be revealed. Otherwise there was never a lull. At one point she called him "Booth" instead of "Mr. Booth," and she saw his jaw tighten and release before he seemed to make some mental decision to let it slide. After that he started calling her "Temperance." Hearing her name sliding from his lips made her feel warm all over.

Then his face became serious. "But you understand in the office it's business as usual." He stated it rather than asked it as a question.

"Of course, sir."

He shot a warning look over to her, full of fire, like if she didn't stop teasing him he would pull over and make her sorry.

She parted her legs slightly and looked at him all kittenish, wiggling her hips around on the seat. He reached over and snaked a hand under her dress to find the center of her parted legs, moist and swollen. He dipped a finger in and felt her wince softly. He removed his hand and patted her pussy like a good dog. "It's ok, sweetheart. We'll let you get some rest before we wear you out again." He bought his hand out from under her dress and stuck a finger into his mouth, sucking the juices off it.

Watching him perform such an intimate act without thought made her heart surge with love for him. He was such contradiction: cruel yet affectionate, hard and soft, indifferent but sweet.

The surprise turned out to be a baseball game. She wouldn't have called it high on the list of romantic getaways but for Booth she understood it was a significant step into letting her into his life.

Brennan had never been to a baseball game before, had never been to any professional sporting event. He tried to explain the rules of the game to her, but eventually gave up and bought her a big foam hand and told her to cheer for the team in red. She was satisfied. That was something she could do.

She was an enthusiastic fan, albeit an ill-timed one. She was so adorable shrieking and clapping with the big foam hand. He wished there was a place he could take her for a quick fuck, but in the Mets stadium it was likely they discouraged that sort of behavior. Maybe they could leave after the next inning. He needed to be inside her and he hoped she was recovered enough to let him in.

They ended up back at his apartment afterwards, the love they made was sweet and gentle and not painful at all. By that time, the ache between her legs overrode any pain she was feeling. And besides, he told her, isn't pain part of the game?

They fucked and ate, fucked and ate, then collapsed together in front of the TV to watch an old movie. Or at least some of it, before he was in her again, slowly rocking his hips into hers and fusing their mouths. He was drowning in her, throwing himself over and over into her and hoping to come up for air. He knew if this kept up he'd eventually go down.

Later they snuggled together in his bed, her head resting on his shoulder, her eyes heavy with exhaustion.

"Stay," he said softly, and she nodded, descending into sleep but happy beyond happy that she wouldn't have to part from him. At least for a little while she wouldn't have to think about what was really happening between them.

Before she fell asleep she thought with a sleepy smile about all the sex they had the last few days. And about how it had transformed from an angry expression of power and dominance to gentleness and mutual affection.

When, she wondered, did the sex cease being about getting each off or playing games and become something else entirely?


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The next week flew by and Brennan would always consider it the best of her life. They spent almost every minute together, days working, evenings playing, and nights together wrapped in each other's arms.

Their lives were slowly co-mingling. Secrets and personal history slowly revealed. She found out he was an Army sniper, had an alcoholic brother named Jared, and an abusive father. She didn't, however, learn anything of the woman was who had obviously broken his heart.

She told him about her best friend Angela and her eccentric husband Jack. About her college friend Cam, and a few of the boys she dated. She loved seeing the murderous look on his face when she mentioned them. He really had no idea they weren't a tenth of the man he was and held not a miniscule part of her heart.

The harder thing to reveal was her chaotic past, the disappearance of her parents, the half-parenting her brother provided, and the endless foster homes. Angela was previously the only person who knew of these dark memories. He held her tenderly while she cried, kissing away her tears.

Their couplings grew more desperate and even more frequent. He began waking her up extra early, because he could not stand not to be inside her that very minute. Sometimes she would wake up and he would already be inside her, her ass against his hips, his cock moving languidly in and out of her. That was the best way to wake up she decided, and wished it could happen every day for the rest of her life.

At work, she was surprised anything got done at all. There was the mid-morning blowjob between meetings, the lunchtime cunningligus or screw, and the late afternoon shower. Oftentimes work intruded so their couplings were fast and dirty, grunting and thrusting into each other until a quick release was had.

The marathon of sex continued after work at his house, her house, restrooms of restaurants, in the car, on the hood of the car, and one time in an elevator.

Then, on Wednesday night, she received her first paycheck and the world came crashing down around her. She knew it was coming, of course. Neither of them had mentioned the agreement since her first day, but it was always there, lurking in the background like an unwanted stranger.

For the first time, doubt crept in, spreading its fear into every corner of her mind. Had he forgotten about the agreement? Shoved it to the back of his mind like she had? Or was he very aware of her position and enjoying the feeling of power? If one looked solely at their sexual relationship, it would appear that way. He loved dominating her, humiliating her, making her beg to come. But on the other hand, when working, he treated her like an equal. He admired her intelligence, her tenaciousness, and her analytical skills. And sometimes he was so tender with her. Was that just an act to make her feel more comfortable with prostituting herself?

She felt tears of confusion welling up. She couldn't say what upset her more, receiving a paycheck for services performed or knowing that in less than a week everything would change?

The door buzzer rang, jerking her out of her reverie. She hid the paycheck and buzzed the door open without asking who it was, assuming it was Booth. She was shocked and surprised to see Angela.

"Sweetie!" Angela shrieked, throwing her arms around her friend. She was dressed in her usual bo-ho chic with a tan tank top, brown leggings and over the knee suede lace up moccasins.

Brennan felt all the color drain out of her face, and barely made it to the couch before falling over. Angela was next to her in a split second looking alarmed.

Brennan opened her mouth to say hello, but she couldn't speak. She was afraid the tears that were coming would wash them both away, out of the apartment, down the stairs, and outside onto the street.

Angela grabbed her friend and hugged her hard. "What happened?" Her brown eyes were wide and frightened.

Then Brennan did break down, a month of built-up, unexpressed anxiety and worry pouring out. More than a month, she thought through the tears, a lifetime. A lifetime of never being loved enough, of never letting herself be loved, till she met a man who both shattered all those defenses but also shattered her sense of herself.

She told Angela everything, leaving no detail out. Editing the story would give too many opportunities to hide, and she was through with hiding. Someone needed to know what she had stooped to.

At times she could barely speak she was weeping so much. Through it all, Angela held her, making soft little comforting noises and leaving her only to collect tissues and get her a glass of water when her voice grew raspy from talking so much.

After she finally finished and lay prostrate, her head on Angela's lap, completely exhausted, Angela finally spoke.

"Do you love him?"

She couldn't even answer the question verbally, as she was too tired to start crying all over again. She just gave her a far-away nod.

"Do you want to stay with him?"

"More than anything in the world," she croaked out.

"So," Angela said matter-of-factly, "why don't you?"

Brennan couldn't speak, the question so convoluted and confused in her mind, no easy answer existed.

She had two choices: stay and accept whatever love he could give her and accept the reality that she might never be anything more than his slave, his inferior, or...

The 'or' choice couldn't even formulate itself in her head. That's how foreign it seemed to her. She couldn't imagine herself without him. She could barely be away from him for an hour, let alone more. This was not a thought any part of her would tolerate.

Angela didn't need a verbal answer. The torment her friend was going through was clear in her eyes. She stroked Brennan's hair. "Can I make you a cup of tea?"

Brennan nodded and stretched out on the couch after Angela got up and moved to the kitchen. She returned with two steaming mugs. She handed one to Brennan who sat up to make room for her.

"You have a very difficult decision to make and I want you to know I support you no matter what," Angela took a big breath and continued, "But if you want to leave I can help."

Brennan didn't say anything, knowing what she meant. Angela was loaded. She had married Jack Hodgins, an eccentric scientist who happened to come from one of the wealthiest families in the country. They had houses and apartments all over the world, a private jet, yachts, you name it. They even had enough money to start a foundation to send hundreds of underprivileged kids to college each year. When Angela said she had resources at her disposal, she wasn't exaggerating.

Brennan wiped the mascara smudges from under her eyes. "It's ok," she said quietly, "I'll be ok. It helped to talk." She smiled sadly.

Neither of them believed that, but Angela could take a hint. She brightened, taking the empty cup from Brennan's hand and taking it to the sink. "Wanna get dinner?"

"Sure," Brennan made herself say. "Let me get cleaned up." She rose and moved sluggishly to the bedroom to change. She walked over to the vanity and leaned her hands on the top, peering deeply into the mirror.

Who was she? Was she the kind of woman to be kept? Could he love her as an equal? Could she even leave him if she tried?

Her head moved in till her forehead was touching the mirror. This was a decision she couldn't make right now. She was too exhausted. Best to put it aside and the answer would come.

&%9#$

Brennan was surprised that they managed to have such a lovely dinner. Angela always had a way of making her see the humor in things, and before long they were howling about how Jack had decided he wanted to raise chickens in the backyard. Angela swore to have no part of it, and of course, chaos insured when the chickens slowly took over the property.

The wine helped, of course, nothing like getting drunk with your best friend to make the world rosy again. So it was a surprise to feel her cell phone vibrating in her pocket where she forgot she left it. It was a text message from Booth with only the word "when".

She had texted him before she left for dinner telling him about Angela's surprise visit and he told her to have fun. But it had been a long enough separation for both of them. The invisible string that held them together could only stretch so far.

She smiled sheepishly at Angela and responded, "pick me up. Anella." He would know where the restaurant was, as they had been there earlier in the month. She told Angela that Booth would be picking her up and Angela could not but help to raise an eyebrow. She remembered how it was with her and Jack when they first met, although something told her this was a little bit different. She was glad though to see that he didn't seem like the jealous type. Brennan, also, didn't seem concerned about her safety in any way. Angela sighed. There was nothing she could really do. Just watch what might be a train-wreck unfold and do the best she could to help her friend through it.

They fought over the bill for a while before Angela relented and let Brennan pay for it. They walked out of the restaurant arm in arm, intoxicated and giggly. They parted with kisses, fierce hugs, and promises to see each other sooner rather than later.

"It'll be alright, Bren," Angela said, looking deep with compassion into her friend's eyes. She threw an arm out and hailed a taxi. "Say hello to Booth for me when you see him," she said with a wink as she stepped into the cab. As it pulled away she gave Brennan a sad little wave.

Brennan waved back and stood on the street waiting for Booth to pick her up.

Booth had seen the whole goodbye from his car parked across the street. He had been sitting there for a half-hour waiting for her to leave. It took everything he had to not spy on her in the restaurant.

It was a relief to see her happy. It wasn't lost on him how stressful the situation between them had become. It was a completely unspoken conversation that came out in every glance, every touch, his cock in her, her hands on him. It was sadness, desperation, and confusion. He knew. He knew because he was going through the exact same thing.

He honked his horn, made a u-turn and pulled up in front of the restaurant. When she got in the car he fell on her, locking her lips in his, battling her tongue, grasping her face in his hands roughly. She leaned into him, yearning for him to be closer, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. He had moved a hand to her breast when a car honked behind them, causing them to lurch away from each other. He grinned at her and put the car in gear. She leaned her head on his shoulder and sighed deeply and contently. She was with him again. Nothing else mattered.

"Where to, love?" he asked as casually as he could. If he had his way, they be driving to an empty street and he be halfway inside her already. She looked so gorgeous tonight. She wasn't wearing anything special, really, jeans, sandals, and a white t-shirt. Her hair, though, was in a messy bun held together tenuously by two red lacquered chopsticks. He wasn't used to seeing her with her hair up as she mostly wore it down because he liked it that way. All he wanted to do was pull out those chopsticks and wrap his hands in all that hair.

"Mmmm…" she said, purring into his shoulder, "your house. No, wait, my house first. I have to get clothes for tomorrow. My boss, you know, gets awfully upset if I'm late." She ran a hand up his bicep, enjoying the hefty feel of it under her hand.

It was obvious she was quite intoxicated. Booth smiled. "Does he? Sounds like a real bastard." His hand found its way onto her lap, massaging her thigh.

"Oh yes," she mumbled, "he's awful. Keeps me there late," she leaned in and nipped his earlobe, "and he works me so hard." Her lips trailed under his ear to his neck and collarbone, nuzzling in under the collar of his shirt. Her hands kept a steady pace up and down his arm from shoulder to hand. "But I'm a loyal employee. I'd do anything for him."

Booth nearly crashed the car when he heard that. His hand inched up her leg and cupped her mound, grinding his fingers into the crotch of her jeans.

She gasped and slipped her own hand down the front of his pants to fondle him. Quickly, though, he picked it up, kissed it, and put it back in her lap.

"Sweetheart, if we don't stop, they'll be scraping us off the road," he said. "But we're almost at your house, so keep that thought in mind."

He helped her into the apartment, knowing that they weren't going back to his house. She was drunker than he first realized. He took her into the bedroom and helped her to the bed, sitting her down on the edge. He leaned down and took off her sandals, then lifted her shirt over her head. He had her lie back on the bed and he slipped her jeans off, leaving her only in white cotton panties and bra. It made his loins ache just looking at her, but she was too far-gone to enjoy whatever might happen tonight. He quickly stripped and slipped in beside her, covering them both up with the sheet and quilt. She wrapped herself completely around him and snuggled into his side.

"Should I suck you?" she asked sleepily.

That's my girl, he thought, chuckling. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed the palm, sending shivers down her spine. Her hips twitched involuntarily, the current of desire sparking the movement.

"I think we should just get some rest. If your boss is half the monster you say he is, you'd better be ready to work. And hard."

He felt her chuckle into his shoulder and snuggle in closer. A guy sure could get used to this, he thought, before his own eyes grew heavy and slowly closed.

&*9%6

On the last Friday he told her to meet him on 4th Ave and 9th Street in Brooklyn. Her told exactly what to wear. Her black and white polka dot 1940s halter-top swimsuit, black knit skirt and flip-flops. She did think it was oddly specific, even for Booth who sometimes instructed her in what she should wear to work.

She complied, but threw her hair into a ponytail as a small act of rebellion, justifying it by blaming the sudden heat wave. She grabbed sunscreen and a floppy hat and headed out to meet him.

She was surprised to see him standing on the corner waiting for her, his car not in sight.

He was wearing a gray Led Zepplin t-shirt, madras shorts and flip-flops. She had never seen him in anything but a suit or at least a collared shirt, and naked of course. She had never really appreciated how broad his shoulders were and the skin-tight t-shirt hid nothing. The madras shorts gave the whole ensemble a hippy-gone-to-seed feel that he managed to pull off.

He gave her a broad smile and kissed her cheek "Ready?" He led her up the stairs and that's when she realized they were taking the train to Coney Island.

They joined the other million and a half people at the beach, swimming alongside rambunctious youngsters and elderly matrons swimming the breaststroke against the tide. Booth splashed and played with the kids. After getting permission he threw them mercilessly into the waves over and over and of course they loved it. Brennan felt like she laughed the whole time, until, that is, he stalked her sitting in the shallow water and bodily picked her up, hauled her into the deep and threw her into a gigantic wave. She sputtered and glared when she surfaced, vowing revenge.

After swimming they were starving. They ate fried clams at Pauls and rode every ride at the amusement park. At dusk they ended up on the ferris wheel, her legs draped over his, her second Cotton candy perched in her lap.

"I had no idea you liked cotton candy so much," he said, amused. He ran his hands up and down her bare legs, suppressing the urge to take her right then. Or at least dip his fingers into her honey pot.

"Mmm," she said licking her fingers. He nearly burst out of his jeans when she did that. She looked so innocent. He could help it then. His hand slid up her smooth leg to nudge aside her panties and slide a finger inside her. She moaned and slumped against him, the cotton candy forgotten.

"No, love, keep eating. Don't want to shock the ride operator.". He slipped another finger inside her, steadily in and out. She was panting now, moving against his fingers, but continued eating as instructed. Her fingers tore off a large chunk, and eyes locked with his, stuffed it into his mouth.

They passed the operator whose eyes missed no mischief. He could see the tall gentleman was clearly fingering the brunette beauty. But it was far from the raciest thing he'd seen on the ride. His favorite was the three-way with two guys fucking a girl doggy-style. He still couldn't figure out how they didn't topple out.

When they stopped at the top, his thumb brushed against her clit, and she keened and arched into him, little explosions rocking her body. He frigged her harder and faster wanting to draw another orgasm out of her. His hand found a peaked nipple and he turned it roughly like a dial. Her next orgasm was more powerful than the first, and she cried out loud enough for the couple ahead of them to turn around. Since they were New Yorkers and probably lovers as well, they quickly turned back around, ignoring them.

She shuddered and rode back down to earth, the ferris wheel descending, clutching his shoulders. The cotton candy was on the floor forgotten. She whispered in his ear. "You now," reaching for the cock that was tenting his shorts.

He took a minute to enjoy the stroke, but stopped her. "Soon," he said quietly. "Let's go home. I'd say a cab is in order, wouldn't you?"

She agreed, but wondered just where home was.

&$9#

Lounging on the couch, spooning and watching TV, he traced patterns on the soft skin of her stomach. He pulled her close.

"All this lovey-dovey stuff is fine." He nuzzled her ear. "But I'm in the mood for something more extreme. You game?"

She smiled to herself. Their lovemaking had mellowed out in the last week, more kisses, less threats and punishments. She was ashamed to admit that she missed it. She pushed her hips back into his by way of an answer. His cock, growing hard, pushed back.

His breath was hot and urgent against her ear. "Perfect," he growled, " knew you would be. Wait right here." He got up from the couch and disappeared into another part of the house.

It was Saturday night, they had worked part of the day, but they finished quickly, the impending, unspoken deadline of Sunday night looming. They had a long leisurely lunch in a semi-private booth in one of the better brasseries in the city. He kept his finger on her clit or inside her almost the entire time. He gave her two jaw-dropping orgasms. Knowing there were diners only a short distance away and in view was intoxicating. He couldn't wait till they got back to the house, but instead forced her into a doorway in a dark alley, and wrapping her legs around her, rammed his cock in her sopping wet pussy, coming in a few hard strokes.

She heard him calling her from the bedroom. When she went in she stepped back. Booth had rigged up hooks to the ceiling and two chains with leather bracelets hung from it.

"I was wondering what those hooks were for," she said, more matter-of-factly than she felt.

"And now you know," he smiled lasciviously. "You need to take your clothes off. You won't be seeing them until tomorrow afternoon. If you're a good girl."

Why, she thought, growing hot, did she always become instantly turned on when he used that tone with her? She stripped and stood before him, eyes downcast as instructed. He affixed a black leather collar to her neck. It had a ring in the front.

He told her to get down on all fours and then he hooked a leash to the ring. He hunched down in front of her and told her to look up. "Sweetheart, if you really want to know what it's like to be a slave, I'll show you. But you have to be sure."

She nodded. "I'm sure," she whispered with desperation. "Show me."

"Mmmm," he said, stroking her face. "I was hoping you'd say that."

He paused suddenly, looking into her eyes, his expression serious. "Just remember the safe word."

She nodded gravely.

He reached around and stroking her burning hot pussy like a good dog said, "Here's what you'll do, and not do. You won't speak until spoken to. You will keep your eyes downcast at all times. Once I am seated, you will sit on the floor next to me. I will whip you, and not just with my hand. Any sound to come out of you, including moaning, screaming, pleading will be met extreme consequences. I don't care if you get off, in fact, I'd say don't plan on it."

"Clear?" he added, his voice hard as nails.

"Yes sir," she responded, her eyes on the floor, her pussy throbbing in need.

"Good. Stand and come with me." He tugged the dog collar up.

She stood, and following the leash, padded along behind him to the TV room and settled herself on the floor beside him.

He was almost beside himself looking at her naked, shackled and vulnerable at his feet. Already he wanted to plunge his tongue into her swollen snatch, but he was trying to keep his head. She had a way of making all these games suddenly seem very unimportant. But he wanted this, wanted her tied up and at his mercy all weekend.

He wasn't sure why, exactly. Maybe it was a way of controlling the situation, a situation that was rapidly falling out of his hands now that he realized he was in love with her. Or maybe he wanted her to know the true extent of the darkness inside of him.

"My cock needs sucking," he said, staring straight ahead at the TV.

He felt her crawl between his legs and undo his belt buckle and zip down his pants. Her hand reached tentatively into his pants and brought out his cock. She went to put the head into her mouth and he stopped her. "Lick the underside a bit," he smiled at her wickedly. "You have to earn the right to suck my come."

She nodded, feeling her pussy grow even more slippery and throbbing, practically gushing at the thought of his prick erupting in her mouth. , She began lathing her to tongue up and down the vein running from his balls to where the head started. She could already feel the rug burning into her knees, probably leaving marks, but she didn't care. Didn't care about anything but pleasing him.

His cock was already hard, red and angry, demanding attention He knew he wouldn't last long. But that was ok. It would be easier to torture her if he wasn't so horny.

"That's it, you little cocksucker. Drool on it, mmm" he growled rubbing the underside of his cock against her face. "Look at me.". Her eyes rose to his face, smoky with desire and need. He had never been so turned on in his life.

He moved forward suddenly to the edge of the chair and grabbed her head. "All you have to do now is stay still, open up your mouth, and stick out your tongue. I'll do the rest." He moved his cock in place and plunged in and out of her mouth, the underside of the shaft rubbing against her tongue with each thrust.

She kept still as instructed, but the pressure in her loins was so intense she thought her pussy might burst open. She had never been talked to or treated this roughly in this way and it made her hot as hell.

He fucked her face, violently forcing his dick in and out of her mouth, hitting the back of her throat with each thrust. With a cry he exploded in her mouth pushing as far in as he could, loving the feel of his come pouring down her throat. Brennan struggled not to gag, half-succeeding, and thankful when he slowed his movements.

That's when be noticed how she was rubbing her thighs together. He pulled his now semi-hard cock out of her mouth and stared at her.

"What do you think you are doing?" he asked her sharply, grabbing a handful of hair roughly. "Are you trying to get yourself off? Answer me."

"No," she whispered, her eyes on the floor. "I couldn't help it. I didn't realize I was doing it."

He lifted her chin and looked deeply into her eyes "First off, that's a lie. Second, you only need to say "yes, sir" or "no sir". I don't need your excuses. Understand?"

"Yes sir."

"I have all sorts of ways I want to punish you for that little maneuver, but the news is on in a minute, so I think it can wait. However, I'm tired so I'm going to need a footstool."

She paused, not sure what he meant. Did he want her to fetch one?

He sighed, exasperated. "Get on all fours in front of me." She did so. He tucked his cock back in his pants, turned the channel to CNN, then the placed his crossed legs on her back.

He pretended to watch the news, but it was far better entertainment watching her. She looked completely humiliated, which was the point. He watched a range of emotions cross her face, from fury to lust to resignation. Her ass was open and thrust into the air and he couldn't resist reaching out to stroke her. She was blazing hot and dripping wet. He loved that this turned her on as much as it did him. He dipped a finger in then brought it to her mouth and told her to suck. He kept doing this over and over, feeding her own juices, till he heard a low moan in her throat.

"Tut, tut. No noises unless permission is granted. I think maybe you need a more severe punishment to deal with your insolence."

He brought her into the bedroom and clamped on the leather wrist straps. "See, I love this whole set up. I can have you standing, or the chains will give way so you can be on your knees or on the floor. I can hook up another of cuffs so I can tie your legs up too. Actually, that sounds like a good idea. Let's do that." He clapped his hands together in glee. He took out a larger set of cuffs and hooked her ankles in. He slid an ottoman under her back. Now she was completely at his mercy.

"I could have left you hanging, but that wouldn't have been very humane. But if you don't behave…" His voice trailed off, the threat implicit. She vowed to be as good as possible. If only she could just come once. She was getting really desperate.

She heard him cross to a desk and open it, retrieving something. He came back over and before she knew it, he hit her hard across the backside with something really hard.

Whack! Another blow came down, this was closer to her pussy than she liked. It would hurt really badly if he hit her there.

"Naughty girl. I can see how much you are creaming. I know what you want. And it isn't to come. You want me to fuck you, don't you? Or come all over you? Or come in your mouth again? I know you only want to please me." He hit her again with the riding crop.

"You may answer."

"Yes!" she cried out, grateful to use her vocal cords to express the agony she was in, "Yes, fuck me! Come on me! Anything!"

He meted out one more blow, this time directly across her pussy, savoring the cry she made of exquisite pain. She was close, that he knew. He only had to hold on another minute. He moved around to her head and scooted it off the ottoman, so it hung down. He pointed his cock straight down and plunged it into her throat. He grabbed her tits and kneaded them roughly, his fingers pinching the nipples roughly without mercy. He heard her whimpering and crying, unable to stop herself from expressing the mixture of pain and pleasure she was experiencing, regardless of the rules.

He couldn't take not being inside her anymore. It was all he wanted. Blowjobs were nice, hell before her he had preferred them, but fucking her made his whole body rise up and sing.

He dislodged himself from her throat and quickly moving around her, thrust himself inside of her. He didn't care if she came. God knows, she deserved it. Her legs were up in the air allowing him to graze her sweet spot over and over. His finger landed on her clit, rubbing furiously. He saw her body arch and writhe, her pussy clamping down on him tightly until he felt her pulsating all around him, impaling herself on him over and over, come pouring out of her and flowing over her like a waterfall. Her pussy was so sopping wet and tight he lost himself in the sensations. He was grateful he had come earlier so she could enjoy this for as long as possible. He wanted her to come so many times she'd pass out. He felt her tensing and releasing, until she cried out again, tremors coursing through her onto his cock. Her eyes opened locking on his.

That was all he needed to push him over the edge. He could get lost in those blue eyes forever.

"Come on me," she whispered, "come all over me."

He groaned and pulling out, sprayed her belly, tits and face with come. Still hard, he put himself back into her quickly and thrust madly, using his hands to spread the come all over her, scooping it up and putting it into her mouth. She sucked his fingers. He slipped out of her and let the chains loose till she could lie comfortably on the floor. He curled up beside her and brought her head to his chest. He didn't offer to clean her up or unchain her.

After a few minutes he got up and left the room.

Brennan lay there panting, her mind whirling with thoughts. As much as she enjoyed it, she wasn't sure if there wasn't a small part of her was using it to punish herself for getting into this agreement with him. A month ago if some guy had told her during a sexual encounter to be a coffeetable for his legs while he watched TV, she would've bounced him out on his ear disgusted. So why did she do it now and so willingly? She loved him, but that wasn't all of it.

She hoped he would let her out of the shackles soon. Her arms hurt and she was tired. And also dirty. Covered in come and her own juices, she longed for a shower.

He retuned from the kitchen with two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. He released her from the shackles and rubbed her arms to get feeling back into them. He sat on the bed with the sandwiches and told her to sit down. She sat on the floor beside him and he handed her a sandwich. They ate in silence.

After the snack, he took her into the bathroom and drew a big bath. He made sure the temperature was right then helped her step in. She couldn't help but utter a contented sigh when she sank back in the hot water. He sponged her body from head to toe, tenderly washed her hair, rinsed it, then stood up and dried his hands with a towel. Then he walked out and closed the door behind him, giving her some private time.

She tipped her head back till it hit the back of the tub. He was so gentle, she thought. He had been so rough with her all night, she almost forgot that sometimes he displayed moments of affection.

She wasn't sure how long she was in the tub until she heard him come in, let the water out, and help her out. He toweled her off then led her to the bed. She could barely keep her eyes open.

He flicked the light off then slipped into bed beside her wrapping her tightly in his arms. She drifted off immediately. He, however, lay awake for a long time, wondering where all of this was leading.

&%9$#

The next day, he was even crueler. It was like he was simultaneously punishing her and training her, the sexual gratification for both of them more spaced out. Sometimes he simply ignored her while she sat in uncomfortable positions, or he humiliated her by making her do things like parade around the living room on all fours with her dog collar.

By Sunday afternoon, neither of them had had one orgasm and both were worked up into a frenzy. He seemed to get more and more angry as the day went on, the punishments becoming more and more frequent.

She had been tied up and on all fours for over an hour. He had just finished the third or fourth time of licking her slit till she almost came then laughing cruelly and leaving her alone to calm down. But now he was back and he looked furious.

"Did you make yourself come?" he spit out the question.

"No…no sir," she pleaded. She wasn't sure she could take more spanking.

"You look satisfied. Did you manage to get yourself off while I was gone? Did you think of someone else? Like maybe that ass-wipe I saw you with in the restaurant that night?"

"No, of course not. I didn't come…I swear to God…" she wanted to cry she was so horny and frustrated.

He prowled around her, his eyes angry slits. He brought the whip down with a thwack and continued whipping her until angry marks appeared on her buttocks and she was close to tears.

He brought down the whip again, and screamed at her, "No one touches this pussy! Do you hear me? It's mine."

He positioned himself behind her and with one hand held his cock against her slit and with the other grabbed her hair roughly pulling her head back into a painful position.

"Tell me you'll never let another man in this pussy." He rubbed his cock up and down the length of her sopping slit.

She was really crying by now, utterly defeated, the need for him, his cock, his hand, mouth, conquering her.

She whispered with a desperate yes.

"Excuse me, slut. What did you say?"

"Yes!" she shouted, "it's yours. Never anyone else."

He thrust his cock up to the hilt into her pussy and she completely fell apart, coming fiercely, crying, and wailing with satisfaction and also with grief. It was an orgasm without end. His cock thrusting inside of her was the only thing that existed, the only thing that mattered.

"And you'll always be my dirty little whore, won't you? You'll never be able to leave me. I'll call for you and you'll come to me, begging me for my come." He knew he was probably taking it too far, but he couldn't stop himself. He wanted to brand her forever, never let her forget that it was his cock that had conquered her, had ruined her forever for any other man. He felt her coming again, her pussy tight as a vise around him, sucking him up into her. He roared and released himself into her, shaking violently.

He pushed her forward till they were both lying on the floor, him on top of her back. He eased off to the side so she could breathe. Both of them were struggling for breath, both of them lost in wild, tangled thoughts about what had just happened.

She knew she had to leave. It was inevitable. As much as she loved this, loved him, she knew she would never be his equal. It might have been in the throes of passion that be called her a dirty whore, but that's what she was, right? She was being paid for having sex with her boss. Not only that, after the month was out she'd get a nice cushy job. She couldn't live with herself if she stayed.

If only he would say something, she thought. Tell her the whole thing had been a mistake, that he loved her, or at least liked and respected her. But his silence spoke volumes.

There was no way to start again, the die had been cast, the path chosen. If they had only met another way, as colleagues, or introduced by mutual friends. Had they started things a different way, she was certain she could stay. No, she thought. She definitely would stay with him till the end of the world.

She wondered if she should say something, but she knew it would be a mistake. He'd just try to convince her that he did see her as an equal, that it was a game they were playing, that's all. She couldn't handle a lie like that. It would only put off the inevitable.

She turned to him suddenly and threw her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder. Maybe if she just clung to him, never letting go, reality would never intrude upon their dream world.

Booth felt the sadness in her body when he held her, the clinging of her arms around his neck, the desperate way she kissed him. He felt it too and he dreaded tomorrow when they would have to sit down and talk about the future. His mind was always racing now, trying to find a way to keep her close, but let her go at the same time.

He worked up the courage to speak. "I didn't," he said, his voice full of regret, "I didn't mean to…"

She cut him off. "It's ok," she said, not meaning it. The words she wanted to hear would not be forthcoming and she didn't want any lame apologies for harsh words spoken under the guise of rough sex.

He wanted to tell her that he didn't mean all of those terrible things he just said. He didn't consider her a whore. He wanted to tell her that he loved her. He wanted to ask her to move in, ask her to get married, ask her to have his baby, but he was afraid. What if he told her he loved her, only to have her laugh and drop the act? Turn on him like Rebecca did, exposing herself as a cold, unfeeling manipulator?

He knew, come Monday, the last shred of doubt about whether she loved him would be dispelled. The spell they had cast would be broken, the debt paid, and he felt sure she would choose to stay near him. How could she not? They could barely be away from each other for an hour, let alone all day.

They rose and dressed in silence. Occasionally their eyes would meet and one would look away, the moment too painful to share.

As she stood at the mirror putting on her necklace, he helped her into her sundress, zipping it up. He finished and looked at her through the mirror, his eyes dark and unreadable. His hands touched her shoulders lightly, keeping her gaze, unmoving, both of them frozen in time. A picture they could take with them.

She moved away first, dropping her eyes and reaching to the dresser top for her earrings. He turned away before he said something that he might regret. Like begging her to stay the night. Stay forever.

He dropped her off late Sunday night, staying in the car, kissing until her lips were red and swollen. But then he let her go. It was the first night they wouldn't spend together in weeks. He ached for her the moment the car door closed.

By the time Brennan made it into the building and upstairs, she was numb with grief. That's it, she thought dully. It's over.

She was in terrible anguish, but she could not see a way it would work. She could only imagine the grief and rage that would come crashing down on him when he realized she was gone. She didn't fear for her safety, but she knew he would find her if she didn't go far away.

She called Angela to put the plan in place, and then she went into the bedroom to start packing.

&$9%#

Booth made himself wait to get to work till 8:30. It wasn't like he slept a wink. He tried to work, but couldn't concentrate on anything for longer than a minute or two. TV didn't help either; he remembered the many times they had made love in front of it. At 5:00 he decided to take a run. He ran 15 miles, much further than he normally did.

He would have kept running until he collapsed. That would be the only thing that would still his chaotic thoughts.

The half-hour between 8:30 and 9 felt like it lasted several years. Around 8:50 he heard Ms Hawley come in and settle her things before heading to the pantry for her coffee.

8:59. He watched the clock. In one minute Temperance Brennan will walk through that door and we can put all this silly nonsense to rest, he thought nervously. Get on with our lives. He had an office picked out for her next to his. He considered breaking through the wall so they could share the bathroom and have easy access to each other.

9:00. He exhaled deeply. He made it. He straightened his tie. He should have brought her flowers. His heart soared as he thought of seeing her face again and being able to tell her everything he wanted to for the last four weeks.

At 9:05, his smile faltered. She was never late. He buzzed Ms Hawley to find out if she had heard from her.

She hadn't.

At 9:10 he called her cell phone. No answer.

At 9:15 he was close to falling into a complete panic when there was a polite knock at the door. Oh, thank God, he thought, she's only late.

But it was Ms Hawley with a letter in her hand. Her expression was grave. She knew Ms Brennan was to be in at 9, and she had seen what was growing between them.

She handed over the envelope. "This just came by messenger."

He couldn't take his eyes off it. He didn't notice Ms Hawley quietly slip out.

It could be anything he thought. A letter from his attorney or a note from a client saying they were running late. Hell, he'd even take a subpoena.

But as his heart sank into his feet he knew who it was from.

He returned to his desk and sat with it in front of him. She could just walk in at any minute and dispel all this nonsense.

He moved suddenly, ripping the envelope open and taking out a single cream-colored piece of paper. His hands were shaking so hard he wasn't sure if he would be able to keep it still to read it.

But there was no need. There was only one word written in the center of the page in blue ink:

Uncle.


	7. Chapter 7

Uncle.

He thought of that word over and over for the last month, turning it in his mind like a dealer with a well-worn deck of cards. He had attached every imaginable emotion to it: rage, grief, aching love, loneliness, confusion. One emotion he never felt, though, was understanding. He would never be able to understand why she would run away from him like that. After the incredible thing they had.

He took a sip of Scotch and stared, eyes unfocused, at the glittering city lights slowly blinking on as the sun set over New Jersey. It was a beautiful Saturday night, date night, and was therefore a night Booth would not be leaving the house. He hated seeing all the happy couples strolling through the neighborhood on their way to fancy restaurants or to walk along the river. He'd much rather stay in and brood. It was something he was getting very good at.

Overall, he'd say, if you'd ask him, and he was honest with you, his prevailing mood was black. He faked it well enough for clients and employees, but it exhausted him, as if every smile came with a hefty price tag on his soul. He had pretty much stopped eating and slept little. Ms. Hawley brought him lunch everyday and stood over him until he ate at least some of it. She couldn't make him sleep though, and the bags under his eyes could attest to that. He alternated between wanting to be at home or the office. At home he relived all they had done together there, sleeping together, watching her drink coffee perched on the countertop, helping shave her legs in the big tub. And the sex. God, the sex. A revelation. It was like every room he walked into had a projector set up showing a particularly memorable moment of passion between the two of them.

He wanted to be any place but home, but the office wasn't much better, for obvious reasons. That meant the gym or the bar. For a guy who wasn't eating or sleeping he seemed to be able to drink copious amounts of alcohol but then have no problem getting up at dawn to run 15 miles.

Uncle.

During the rage phase he wondered if she was just using him, like Rebecca had. If that were the case, he thought, she wouldn't have run, right? She would have accepted the job, or at least the money. He would have, in some way, seen her true colors.

He wasn't quite ready to think the worst of her yet. He knew she felt something, she must have. A woman doesn't turn over her body or her passions so willingly to someone she doesn't care about, does she? He wasn't all that surprised when Ms Hawley informed him she had received a card from the World Wildlife Federation thanking the company for their generous donation. The look Ms Hawley gave him said it all. She loved him. She did it all for free.

It made the torture worse. The idea that she might be suffering as much as he was tore him apart.

Uncle.

If only he could find her. For a man of his wealth and resources, to not be able to find one woman in the country in the same field of business as him was humbling.

Just thinking of her stirred his cock, bringing it to life after a long sleep. The ruthless part of himself had wanted to find someone else as soon as possible. But after that disastrous night when he made her swear to never take another lover, it appeared he cast that spell on himself as well. He couldn't touch another woman. It didn't stop him from trying though.

He thought with a grimace of the night he called Candy and told her to come over. God love her, Candy never said no and never seemed to be offended when he appeared out of nowhere to ask her to come over and service him. He had himself convinced he could go through with it until he opened the door to greet her. She looked great, short spring dress that took advantage of the warm spell, with a deep V-neck that emphasized her ample breasts. But the second he laid eyes on her he was filled with disgust, not for her, but for himself. He forced the unwanted thoughts to the back of his mind and went through the motions of being the master, but it was when she was finally naked and before him on all fours begging him to fuck her that he collapsed in on himself. He couldn't do it. His cock seemed to get the memo as well, deflating to half-mast as he walked to the bar and poured himself a large tumbler of Scotch.

Candy thinking this was part of the game, wriggled her ass at him, looking coyly over her shoulder. The desperate look on his face as he downed the Scotch gave her pause. She sat down on the floor cross-legged and looked at him, head tilted.

"Are you...are you ok?" she asked timidly.

"No," he had replied, sounding sad and tired. He ushered her out a few minutes later but stopped her by the elevator to envelop her in a big bear hug. "Goodbye Candy. It was nice to know you."

She returned his hug. "You too, Mr. Booth. I hope you find what you are looking for."

That was five nights ago, and he had barely left the apartment since. Hell, he'd barely left this room except to go to work. It was so much easier to get a bottle of Scotch and drink at home, than have to socialize at the bar where the employees hung out. He knew he was turning into a recluse and probably a drunk, but he wasn't sure he cared.

He reached over without looking and picked up the bottle of Scotch, pouring a generous amount of the amber liquid into the crystal glass. He swirled it around and turned his eyes back to the picture window, eyes still unfocused on the skyline before him, instead fixated on one face and one word.

Uncle.

&$9#%

Brennan poured herself a second glass of wine knowing she'd regret it. One glass was forgetting. Two was remembering.

She didn't want to remember. Six weeks wasn't enough time to forget, she knew that. It would take much, much longer than that. Right now, she wasn't sure she ever would. She moved over 5000 miles away, got a new job, a new life. But he followed her everywhere. It was like he lived in her skin, had sunk into her bones, and seeped into her blood stream. Her brain was the only part of herself she did control, and that was sporadic at best.

Like tonight, she sighed, moving through the apartment in a trance. She made herself sit on the couch and turn on the TV. She enjoyed Japanese TV, even though she understood very little of the language. However, understanding the language wasn't required to watch people in foam suits jump off pillars to crash into each other. It almost always afforded her a laugh.

Not tonight, though. She picked up her Japanese grammar book, determined to go over the vowel drills. It was coming along nicely, everyday she understood more and more what her colleagues were saying. It helped that she picked up languages so quickly. She did love living here, loved learning about a new culture. She loved her new job, and was eternally thankful that her management and marketing skills were transferrable to any industry. She could have never have hid from him so well if she had stayed with telecommunications. Besides, game design was just as good. The Japanese were known for developing everything that was deemed cool in the world of gaming, so it was exciting to help brainstorm and develop products. Her colleagues treated her well. All Japanese men in their 40s, they showed a deference to her business acumen, especially in regards to the knowledge of overseas markets. She often wondered why it was only men at the company, since they didn't show a smidgen of prejudice towards her, but she knew it was just because she was a foreigner, a white woman. She was pretty sure they didn't see their own women in the same light of equality.

Like Booth, she thought, feeling a strong flutter in her belly tingling out to every limb. God, she yearned for him. It was so difficult to not just pick up the phone and beg to come back, no matter the terms. She'd be his slave, if only to be near him. She couldn't do that, though, and she knew it. She'd rather die of loneliness, which she was pretty sure she was headed. She was relieved to be around so many men who looked nothing like Booth. If she had to constantly see the back of tall brown-haired men all day, it might make her resolve crumble.

After the second glass of wine, she found herself wandering into the bedroom. She opened up the first drawer of her dresser and pulled out a small book of poetry. She caressed the leather cover with her hands, gazing lovingly at the book. It was a book of the love poems of Pablo Neruda. Angela had slipped it in her bag at the airport without her knowing it. She thumbed a well-worn corner open to a page and read the poem she had almost memorized by heart.

**Love Sonnet XLV**

Don't go far off, not even for a day, because-  
because-I don't know how to say it: a day is long  
and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station  
when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep.

Don't leave me, even for an hour, because  
then the little drops of anguish will all run together,  
the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift  
into me, choking my lost heart.

Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve on the beach;  
may your eyelids never flutter into the empty distance.  
Don't leave me for a second, my dearest,

because in that moment you'll have gone so far  
I'll wander mazily over all the earth, asking,  
Will you come back? Will you leave me here, dying?

Next to the poem, tucked into the binding was a small photo booth photo that had been ripped in two. It was taken on their trip to Coney Island on that last weekend. In the top photo they both looked straight at each other, smiles moments from bursting forth. In the second, he had tickled her and the photo showed him half out of the photo, an evil gleam in his eye. Her head was thrown back in riotous laughter. She knew the other two photos had her turning to him and sticking her tongue out, and the bottom one showed them locked in a passionate kiss. She wished she had those photos, jealous that he had them.

If he even kept them, she thought sadly. Surely he had moved on. There was no way he was suffering the way she was. She knew he would be upset. It was obvious from the photos that he liked her at least somewhat. But she was a plaything, a possession. He didn't love her.

Clutching the photo, she crawled into bed, willing herself to sleep. Wanting another day to pass so she could maybe forget him, like a piece of him would fall off her every day eventually leaving her free and unencumbered by grief.

Gazing off into the distance she remembered leaving New York, escaping to Angela and Jack's estate in Virginia. For five days, she let Angela take care of her while she had a full-fledged nervous breakdown, except she wasn't nervous. She was heart-broken and depressed. She couldn't get out of bed for the first three days. Angela treated her as if she had the flu, bringing her chicken soup and hot tea. Jack came in the evenings and read to her from science books, his enthusiasm for the dry subject matter infectious. She felt pathetic, but was grateful her friends didn't seem to think so. They treated her gently, as if they knew she had just gone through the most traumatic experience of her life. Even more so than the betrayal of her parents, she thought. That she felt she was finally getting over. Not this, though.

She had never let a man destroy her before. Really, she had no idea it was even possible. So many relationships she had controlled, so many she had ended on a whim. Had she crushed all of those men the way she was crushed now? If so, she wanted to find them all and personally apologize.

She would never date again, of that she was certain. This was a pain she never wanted to experience again, and one she would never inflict on anyone else.

As she closed her eyes, drifting off, her last thought was that he had succeeded in his mission. She was ruined for any other man.

&%$9#

Booth sat straight up in bed and looked at the clock which read 2AM. He clapped a hand to his forehead. Of course! Of course!

He got out of bed and pulled on a pair of grey sweatpants and ran his fingers through his hair. Grabbing a glass of milk he sat at his computer and opened a browser. Of course! he said again, that's how he could find her! It was two months of fruitless searching, a team of investigators who had turned up nothing. No employment, current address, flight records, bank accounts opened. She just vanished. He had contacted her brother, but he was just as surprised as Booth to hear she had disappeared. He didn't seem all that concerned though, which Booth couldn't figure out was a testament to his loutishness, or that he trusted his sister to take care of herself.

What he hadn't thought of us, what he completely blocked out was Angela. He shook his head, flabbergasted. How had he forgotten about her good-looking friend from D.C.? He didn't know her last name or where exactly she lived, but he knew she was an artist and she was married to a rich scientist. Shouldn't be hard to find a couple like that.

After a short search on the Internet he found a Dr. Jack Hodgins, director of forensic entomology at the Smithsonian. He was also heir to the Cantilever Group. Booth whistled between his teeth. He really was rich. They lived in Virginia but it was hard to find out where or what their number was. Understandable given the kind of wealth they had.

That, he thought, is why God invented private investigators. He picked up the phone, disregarding the hour and called.

Looks like he'd be making a trip to Virginia tomorrow.

&*%9#

He couldn't decide if it would be better to call or just show up. He decided on the latter. If Brennan had turned to her friend for help, calling might just get him blown off in the interest of her safety and happiness. In person, maybe they could see what kind of person he was and give him a chance. He pulled up to the gate and rang the buzzer.

"Hello?"

"Hi. Um." He wasn't sure how to start this. "It's uh, Booth." He assumed she had talked to her about him. He hoped, at least.

The gate buzzed immediately and swung open to let him drive through. Whew, he thought. At least she'll talk to me. That's better than nothing. He drove up the long, winding driveway, through tall cypress trees until he saw the house.

Wow, was the only word that really described it. It was practically a castle and reminded him a little of the house in Brideshead Revisited. It appeared to have 2 long wings, and turrets. Who has turrets anymore?

He pulled in front and hopped up the front steps to knock on the massive oak front doors. The doors opened immediately on the brown-haired beauty with the large laughing eyes.

"Seeley Booth. Why am I not surprised to see you?" The corner of her mouth lifted in a gentle smirk.

The way she said his name made him think she had been expecting his visit for a long time. He kicked himself again for not thinking of her sooner. What if she thought he didn't care about Brennan since it took him six weeks to contact her?

She showed him in and took him into the kitchen and offered him a cup of coffee. Funny, he thought, to sit in the humble kitchen when there was such a grand house with what he imagined were expensively and fabulously furnished multitude of rooms. But he could see that Angela was a modest person, and a gentle one. It made him love Brennan even more that this woman would be her best friend.

"I don't know where she is." Those were Angela's first words of substance once they sat down to drink their coffee. Her eyes were focused on his with laser-like precision.

Booth raised any eyebrow. "Of course you do." He took a sip and glanced around the kitchen, nervous to meet her eyes since he was dead certain she was lying.

"And if I did," she continued, warming her hands around the mug, "why would I tell you?" She challenged him, daring him to say what he felt.

He stared at her. What was he supposed to do? Declare passionate love for Temperance, right now, in the first five minutes upon meeting her? What if Brennan told him she didn't love him? He'd look like a fool.

"I'm looking for her, um," he paused, unsure of what he was going to say, "because she was a very good employee and friend and I wanted to know why she left so suddenly." It was official. He was a fucking coward.

Angela frowned and lowered her head till her eyes were glowering up at him. She opened her mouth to tell him just how full of shit he was when her husband walked in.

"Hey babe," he called out, his head glued to his smartphone. "I'm checking out places for dinner tonight and I was wondering if you wanted to try…" his voice trailed off as he glanced up and saw the stranger sitting at the kitchen table with his wife.

"Oh, hello," he said, smiling. "I'm Jack Hodgins."

"Sweetie," Angela said to him, her eyes shooting knowing looks at him. "This is Seeley Booth. Temperance's friend."

"Ohhhhh," Hodgins said softly, getting it. "You're Bones' boyfriend." He walked towards Booth, hand out-stretched.

Booth rose and shook his hand before sitting back down. Bones? he thought mystified. Boyfriend? Is that how she described him? The thought made him happier than he had been in weeks.

Hodgins sat down and Angela got up to pour him a cup of coffee. Jack saw the confusion in Booth's face at the mention of Temperance's nickname. "Yeah, Bones. It's what we used to call her in college because she was so skinny. Man, we never thought she would fill out like she did, did we honey?"

Angela laughed and nodded.

"So you're here to find out where she is, right?" Jack asked.

Booth nodded solemnly.

Angela sat back down. "Why do you want to find her?" She had on her resolved look, the one that usually made anyone speak the truth, knowing she wasn't going to tolerate any more nonsense.

Booth looked back and forth between the two of them, knowing that the jig was up. He obviously wouldn't be here if he didn't care about her. He was an idiot for telling Angela differently moments ago. He'd better start being honest. With them. With himself.

"I. I. I love her."

"Well then," Angela said softly, understanding everything, her hand coming up to cover his. "Let's talk."

&%$9#

Smoothing her skirt, Brennan took a deep breath. It was almost show time. The small company she worked for had finally attracted a major investor and they wanted her to be the person to deliver the pitch. It would be a boon to the company as it would inject much needed capital and propel them into the big leagues of the major gamers. It was also a sign of trust and respect from the gentlemen she worked for to present to such a prestigious company. It helped that it was an American company. They must have thought a little Yankee hospitality might help seal the deal.

She looked over her presentation again. It was rock solid and she had put a tremendous amount of work into it. In fact, she had to admit it was responsible for finally pulling her out of the major depression she had been in. For the last month, since she had been assigned the project, she had worked tirelessly and obsessively in making sure it would be a sure thing for the company. Three months since she had last seen Booth and it had taken until last week till she finally felt better. She knew she would never get over him, but at least she wasn't crying herself to sleep anymore.

Picking up a stack of papers, she headed for the conference room. Outside the room, she greeted her co-workers with a short bow. She smiled brightly and followed them into the large conference room. She nodded deeply at the other executives from the company in the room and turned her eyes to the man at the other end of the room whom she would be pitching to.

She almost tripped over her feet on her way to her chair when she saw him. Booth sat alone at the end of the conference table his elbows on the table and his hands clasped in front of him. He was nodding along to the comments of the gentleman to his left, but his eyes were on Brennan.

She tried to unfreeze herself from the spot she was stuck to, but didn't seem to be able to move. He was here, in her office. They were here, together, in Tokyo. She felt a half-dozen eyes turn towards her as it became obvious something was wrong. She pulled herself together swiftly and strode over to the laptop and projector waiting for her.

It's difficult to keep a straight face when you are a hair's breath from bursting out into tears. How dare he show up here! And like this? All smug and self-important, at the head of the table, the king of the room as always.

Now she hated him. He was here solely to assert his power over her. He had traveled all this way to prove to her that she could never escape him.

She was a professional though, and she knew how much this deal meant to the company. So, she gathered herself with a heavy, quiet breath and started. Maybe she could pretend he was someone else.

Booth knew the second he saw her face that this was a big mistake. He meant to surprise her. And he did, but not in a good way. She looked surprised, then horrified, then outraged before she managed to slip on an air of professionalism and indifference.

He was here because he loved her, couldn't live without her. Why else would he be here? As the meeting wore on and she looked through him to the back of the chair like he was someone else, his blood began to boil. He was right about her. Right about every woman he had ever met. Only out for themselves.

After the presentation was over, which Booth had to admit was excellent, he fired question after question to her, ignoring the interruptions from other, more senior executives of the company. She responded with short, curt answers, enough to get the question answered, but not enough to seem engaging.

After two and a half hours, two things became very clear. One, the meeting was lasting far longer than anyone had expected, and two, there was obviously something going on between the two Americans. The rest of the gentlemen had no idea they knew each other, but the desire and the passion was clear. And if there is one thing you can know for sure, Japanese businessmen know a thing or two about desire.

After the meeting Mr. Kyoto approached Booth. "I hope, Mr. Booth, the presentation met with your approval and you will give serious consideration to our proposal."

"Of course," Booth said with a sincere smile. Regardless of who did the presenting, it was a tempting offer.

"And I hope you will join me and my colleagues for dinner tonight."

Booth stole a glance at Brennan whose hackles had clearly risen after overhearing the invitation. "Certainly. But I hope Ms. Brennan can join us as I have a few more questions about a possible deal."

"Ms. Brennan?" Don Kyoto turned to Brennan. "Would you be able to join us?"

She considered saying no, that she had another appointment, but she knew she couldn't do that. Mr. Kyoto and the whole company expected her to do everything in her power to seal the deal. Including, having dinner with a man she now considered an arch-nemesis.

"Splendid," Don replied. I will make a reservation for six. Say 8PM?"

"Sounds good," Booth said, his eyes never leaving Brennan's. She quickly shifted her eyes down, ignoring the warm glow that bathed her body every time he looked at her. She gathered her papers and with a deep bow, turned to them. Both men bowed back and she retreated to her office gritting her teeth. It probably killed him to bow like that before her.

Damn him! She thought, anger rising up and overtaking desire, squashing it flat. He couldn't play with her this way. She finally felt like she was getting over him. Ok, that's was a lie, she knew that. But she had resigned herself to never seeing him again; hoping the old adage was true, that time would heal all wounds.

She should dress as unattractively as possible, she thought with a wicked smile. She thought of her baggiest pair of slacks, the lime green ones, no, the beige ones, and the purple turtleneck that was about two sizes too big. Sensible flat shoes, little makeup. No, no, too much makeup. Bad, caked-on makeup.

She sighed. As much as the thought appealed to her, she knew she'd have to dress appropriately, as a female executive should. She pushed aside the thoughts of dressing provocatively to tease him. She'd wear her gray pinstripe, with a white button-down, but sensible shoes with a small heel.

However, her body and the back part of her mind betrayed her. She couldn't help herself from slipping into a blood-red skintight Chanel suit, cream-colored, ruffled satin blouse and black patent leather high heels. Nothing sensible about these heels, she mused, looking down at them. Not stilettos, but damn close. She wore her hair up in the chopsticks she knew he liked. She appraised herself in the mirror and gave a snort of disgust. Change, goddamn it! the sensible part of her mind screamed. She ignored it, grabbed her purse and fled the apartment before she changed her mind.

&$9#%

For some reason the executives at the company decided their guest would be more interested in an American-style steakhouse instead of Asian food.

Brennan was the last to arrive. All of the men stood when she approached the table and they all greeted with handshakes instead of bows. No one seemed to notice that Booth and Brennan did not shake hands.

It was all Booth could do to keep this mouth from dropping open. She was even more beautiful than he ever remembered her being. The red suit highlighted her crystal blue eyes and creamy skin. He spied the chopsticks in her hair and felt himself grow hard. He willed his cock back down, until he was at least sitting down. Did she wear her hair like that for him? he wondered. It would appear so. He felt hopeful for the first time that day.

However, her iciness towards him shot the idea right out of his head. She sat straight across from him and ignored him until he directly addressed her across the table.

"Ahem, Ms. Brennan," he said, his voice like flint against rock.

She reluctantly turned her eyes towards him, shooting daggers that didn't miss their target.

"You've told me why you think this deal is a good idea. Can you tell me why it wouldn't be?"

She frowned. He was just messing with her now, but that didn't mean she would back down. "I have told you why it's a good idea.". Over and over, she thought. "The only thing that might be of concern to you is that our capacity for mass production is somewhat low right now. Of course, support from an investor such as yourself would help us alleviate that problem."

He listened quietly, nodding here and there. Then he spoke. "That sounds like a fair appraisal Ms. Brennan. But tell me. Are you part of the deal?"

Every head at the table snapped to look at Booth, then just as quickly to see Brennan's reaction. She was beet red with embarrassment. Was he trying to get her fired?

"Sorry, what I meant was, would you be coming along with the deal to work in the division that I would set up? In the States."

"Certainly, not," she snapped, unable to respond with the grace and dignity her colleagues were used to seeing.

Don, taking Brennan's lead, responded more politely to Booth's request. "Ms. Brennan is a valuable asset to the company. If you were to agree to this proposal, we would respectfully request she stay on in the same position here. In Tokyo."

Beaten at his own game, Booth sat back in his chair and waved his hand as if it didn't matter.

The rest of the meal was awkward as the hostility level between them rose dramatically since his blatant come on. Brennan was relieved when the check arrived, thankful she could get out of the restaurant and hide from him once more.

After dinner, the group walked Booth back to his hotel, but each gentleman casually dropped off with excuses of waiting wives and children.

When she was alone with him, she instantly turned to leave, throwing a bye over her shoulder. She didn't owe him anything, especially a polite goodbye. But she more than expected the hand that firmly gripped her arm, wanted it even, and the tingles that accompanied it.

He turned her around. "Come up," he said in a low tone barely audible under the noise that characterized Tokyo.

It didn't escape her that this was not a request, but a demand.

"No," she replied firmly. "Why should I?" She wanted to scream at him, beat him senseless, ignore him. His hand was still on her and she could feel the skin on her arm melting and adhering to his, like the wax of two candles. She shifted to the other foot and could feel how her panties were soaked, her body readying itself for him.

His eyes were large and black, the pupil taking over the warmth of the brown. "Temp." he started to say, but she cut him off by leaping into his arms, attacking her mouth with his.

If that wasn't a homecoming, nothing ever would be, thought Booth, as his arms came up to crush her to him. Their mouths ignited embers barely stoked, the slightest breath lighting them into a roaring flame. His hands slid down to her waist, pulling her against him, grinding his hardness into her soft mound. He was rewarded with an anguished groan from Brennan as she wrapped her hands tightly into his hair.

Tearing herself away from him abruptly, she stepped back to the edge of the sidewalk, close enough to fall off the curb. He instinctively reached out to steady her, but she swatted his hand away. They said nothing for a moment that seemed to stretch forever. Then she turned on her heel and began walking into the hotel.

He grimaced and followed along behind her. I guess we're going in, he thought ruefully. He had no idea of what to expect, but was happy that he would get to see her alone. Maybe he could convince her to….

Standing inside the elevator, Brennan harrumphed, indicating he should stop daydreaming and join her. He stepped in, the doors shut and they rode to the top floor in complete silence. He snuck glances at her, but she kept her face averted, choosing instead to examine the wood paneling of the elevator.

Booth fumbled with his key, trying three times to get the green indicator light. She followed in close behind him. The room was pitch black as they made their way through the foyer to the main room of the suite. He turned on the desk lamp and walk towards her, a look of desperation on his face. Now or never, he thought. He had to tell her everything, and he had to risk everything to do it.

He opened his mouth, forcing the words out. "Temperance, I have to talk to you. "

She looked at everything in the room but him, walking through, peeking behind the curtains, running a finger over the TV as if looking for dust.

His eyes followed her around the room, wondering why she wouldn't look at him. He tried to talk again…"Temperance, I…"

"No," she said, coming to stop in front of him. She held up a hand. "No talking." Without breaking eye contact, she slipped off her suit jacket letting it crumple of the floor at her feet. She reached behind her and unzipped her skirt which met the same fate as the jacket. Her blouse was shed next, unbuttoned slowly and provocatively. Booth sucked in a breath when he saw her breasts, two succulent globes covered in the skimpiest of bras. He could see a hint of brown nipple through the lace and his mouth watered, yearned to suck through the fabric, tear the bra apart with his teeth.

He didn't feel like he could touch her. Not yet. She was showing him something, sending him a message that he was meant to decode. What was it? She was in control? His only answer to that would be hell yeah. Knock yourself out.

The heels were kicked off, the tights peeled off, and finally she reached around and unhooked her bra. She stood glorious and radiant before him only in her black panties, ripe for the picking if he was hungry. And he was ravenous.

But he needed to talk to her, tell her what he was feeling. He sensed, though, by the look in her eye that would not be welcome.

He wanted her so much he was afraid his cock was going to split his pants in two at the inseam. She dropped to her knees in front of him in supplication, like she had done countless time before. That wasn't what he wanted. He picked her up by the arms and smashed his mouth to hers, his blood rising in his veins and shooting down to engorge his cock and tighten his balls. Gripping her arms so tightly he thought he might leave bruises, he peppered kisses down her throat, his hands reaching up to cup both breasts. She moaned, melding her body into his and began a slow glide up and down the length of his hardness.

Jumping into his arms, she wrapped her legs tightly around him as he stumbled forward into other room and collapsed on top of her on the bed. He wasn't going to think anymore. All he wanted was to bury his mouth in her hot, pink pussy, and drink up the nectar his body had craved for months.

His mouth latched greedily into one nipple and as he sucked hard she bucked beneath him. He slid further down quickly stripping her panties and peeling back her outer folds he buried his face in her hot soaking quim, one finger pinching her clit roughly.

Immediately she arched, and with a strangled cry her body burst into flames and collapsed. Her hands buried themselves in his hair grinding his face into her core, not caring if he needed to breathe. He sucked he juice out of her, hungrier for her than he had ever been. His hands latched onto her stiff nipples eliciting another whimper from Brennan's throat.

She tugged at his shoulders, giving him the sign to crawl up and fuck her already, but he refused to let go of her delectable pussy. Only when she tugged hard enough on his hair to pull a few strands out did he chuckle and sit up on his knees. He gazed lovingly at the beautiful brunette laid out before him. He wanted so much to tell her what she meant to him, but he needed to show her first.

He shed his clothing without leaving the bed and on his knees again stroked his cock, watching her tongue come out and unconsciously lick her lips. Reaching down with one hand to her sopping wet slit, he stroked her while jacking himself.

She writhed beneath him, her head jerking back and forth on the pillow. When she opened her eyes, she looked enraged. Why couldn't he just get on with it? She needed his cock so bad.

She sat up and pulled him down on top of her, spreading her legs wide for him. Balancing on one hand he guided his cock to her opening, stroking her rhythmically to coat himself in her juices.

Eyes locked together he surged into her, both of them crying out, one part ecstasy and one part agony, as they had both been so bereft without the joining of their two bodies. Their pace was frantic, neither of them able to hold out very long. First Brennan, nearly levitating off the bed as she shouted his name over and over, the shockwaves surging through every nerve ending in her body. Booth grabbed her ankles and raising them towards her head, pounded ruthlessly into her. Her pussy was totally exposed to his pounding, the spongy bundle of nerves hit on every thrust. They came together, the rumbling and crashing together of their bodies, like thunder and lightning moving across the sky.

They shared a sheen of sweat as he slowed his thrusts but didn't move to leave her. He looked deeply into her eyes, trying to convey wordlessly what she so obviously didn't want to hear. She turned her face away from him, but began rocking back and forth, clutching his shoulders. Her pussy clenching and releasing him, the movement of her body against his, had him hard again in moments.

The love they made was tenderer than before. Each thrust was so minute and each reaction from her was so subtle, that it they would almost appear still to the naked eye. She could not meet his eyes though, burying her face in the crook of his neck instead. If he saw her eyes, there would be no denying that she loved him. She'd give him all the power back. She'd be as lost as she was before.

The pace quickened slightly, as he thrust deeper into her womb. She closed her eyes trying to memorize every inch of his body, from his broad, muscled shoulders, to his flat washboard stomach, to his thick long cock currently setting every nerve ending in her body on fire. Even with her eyes closed she knew the exact color of brown his eyes were, how his short hair stuck up in the front like it was standing at attention. She had stood in the bathroom enough times to watch him quickly get dressed, but take the time to through some sticky gel in his hair. She loved how it crunched slightly under her fingers. She felt his hands move under her to grasp her ass, ploughing into her quim desperately. She wished a picture would do it justice, but there was no way to convey how much she loved his cock in her, and how much she loved him.

She opened her eyes to find him staring at her with such intensity that for a moment she would have sworn he was in love with her. She knew it was just a fantasy, but it was all she needed to send her over the edge, the out-of -control freight train mowing her down again. He followed soon after, collapsing on her with his full weight, pressing her deep into the soft mattress.

He rolled over to the side, and they lay panting a moment before Brennan rose and began gathering her clothes. Booth sat up in bed.

"Where are you going? he asked, alarmed at the speed with which she picked up each piece of clothing, as though she was a child searching frantically through the grass for a lost toy. Once she had all the clothes in her hands she wordlessly walked to the bathroom and shut the door. She locked it, then sat down on the cold tile, naked and alone. He was only on the other side of the door, waiting for her. All she had to do was walk out, back into his arms. Take whatever he was offering. But she couldn't. She couldn't be his slave, or his employee, or a kept woman, or even his wife if she thought she was only there to serve him. He was very attentive this time, a voice within her whispered. There was none of the cockiness, none of the arrogance that was both sexy and fatally attractive. It was just the two of them, making love.

Making love. That phrase almost made her want to laugh out loud. Booth would never be ever to love anyone more than himself.

He knocked softly on the door interrupting her thoughts. "Temperance, I…I didn't get a chance to tell you any of the things I came to this country to tell you. Can you please come out so we can talk?"

"No," she said curtly, knowing she sounded childish. But out there lay danger. His body that made her surge with warmth and desire every time she saw him. Made her lose herself every time she locked eyes with him. Her body that sang joyfully when he touched her. She had to stay strong, and that meant not being in the same room with him. "Say what you have to say now. Then I'm leaving." She tried to keep her voice strong and brave sounding.

"This is ridiculous." She could hear him pacing back and forth in front of the bathroom. Letting out a long sigh, he leaned against the door. "I want you to come back to New York with me. I know you left because of the agreement we had, which was just stupid on my part. But I wanted you so much. I didn't ever mean to make you feel that you really had to perform to keep your job. We could have stopped at anytime and I wouldn't have fired you or anything. I want you to work for me, I loved having you around…I love…." He tried to say the last word, the final word that would put him out there, out there to be crushed if she didn't feel the same way.

"loved being together." He hit his head on the door softly, furious with himself for chickening out. His anger started to rise. "Why can't you just come out and discuss this like adults?" He spit out the words like they were a bitter liquid.

She flung the door open, her eyes black and threatening. She was fully dressed, minus tights, her high heels in her hand. She strode out the door past him into the sitting room. He followed behind and grabbed her arm roughly, spinning her around. "You have got to talk to me!" he shouted. Then he took a deep breath and tried to modulate his voice. "Do you even want me to be here?"

She cast her eyes to the floor, she did want him here. And she didn't. Holding those two viewpoints and emotions inside her was driving her close to the edge of insanity. She needed to get away from him before she blurted out something mortifying, like 'I love you.' Something that would give him ammunition to keep her under his thumb.

Gripping her arm tighter, he stepped closer to her, his body inches from hers. She could feel the magnetized energy between them, drawing them closer. If he decided to kiss her, she knew she wouldn't be able to resist and she'd be back in the same predicament in another hour or so, once the sweat dried. The temptation to just give up and let him take her over nearly overpowered her. He smelled so good, hints of soap and shampoo mixed with the heady scent of sex filled her senses.

The tick of a clock from the bedroom and the hum of the air conditioner were the only sounds to fill the room as they stared into each other's eyes. "Goddamn it! Talk to me!" His hand gripped her arm tighter, shaking it slightly.

Ripping her arm from his grasp, she drew up all her strength and lashed out at him. "Talk to me? Why should I talk to you? You waltz in here, into the city where I moved to get away from you, then you expect me to talk to you? You invade my workplace with this silly idea of buying the company I work for and make yourself hidden so in all my research I don't see your name crop up once? "

Taking a step closer to him, she jabbed an index finger hard into his chest. "I don't work for you anymore. I don't take orders from you anymore. I want you to stay away from me. " She was close to tears but she wouldn't let him see it. She searched around frantically looking for her purse. Finding it lying half off the coffee table she snatched it up and stalked towards the door.

"Look. I love you," he practically shouted. "Is that what you want to hear?" He wanted to stomp over to her, grab her by the hair and trap her under his body, tearing her apart with his kisses.

She whirled around. "Let's be clear, ok," she spoke like she would to a toddler. "I. don't. want. you. I don't want you to come near me again. If you do love me, then you will respect my wishes." She turned again towards the door, but didn't move.

His voice was quiet, strained, "I do love you. Let me show you."

She left without another word. If she stayed another minute, she'd believe anything he told her, the moon was square, gravity didn't exist, that he loved her and didn't want to just control her.

The beige hallway carpet crunched slightly under her feet as she walked down to the elevator. He didn't follow. She couldn't even cry anymore, and not because she didn't want to, or need to. Her tear ducts simply didn't work anymore. She had cried too long and too hard over him.

She squared her shoulders as she entered the elevator, slipping on her shoes. She could begin again. It would just take a little longer to get over him than she expected. Maybe she'd meet a man someday who could be her equal, her soul mate. She refused to let her brain dwell on anything but the happy future she was determined to have, that the elevators doors that were closing weren't closing on the only happiness she would ever know.

Booth sat down hard on the couch. What happened? he wondered. It was going so perfectly. He found her, he came after her, they made the sweetest love they had ever made, then he told her that he loved her. What did it mean when she said she didn't take orders from him anymore? Sexually? Did she really think he thought less of her because of their sexual predilection?

His past was coming back to haunt him. For far too long he had considered women to be something to be used for his own pleasure. Now he had found a woman he actually loved and he had driven her away with his overwhelming need to control.

He remembered her warning: If you love me, don't come near me again.

Dear God, he thought, what have I done?


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

It was raining lightly. A soft steady rain that was fine enough to coat every surface no matter how well covered it was. An impenetrable humidity added to the sense of oppressiveness as if nature itself was revoking its invite to explore its mysteries and forcing everyone to huddle indoors.

Booth sat in an armchair near the window gazing out at yet another city that he had no desire to be in. Not without her.

For the first time in his life he seriously considered taking up smoking. Scotch had lost its appeal. It was the drug of forgetting, and he didn't want to forget. Those last moments together, no matter how tortured, were the last he would have with her. He needed to remember them, not dilute them.

But a vice would be helpful right about now, he thought wistfully. He looked toward the writing desk where he had begun to compose a letter to her. He had only gotten as far as "Dear Temperance," before he backed away from the desk, an attack of nerves ruining his resolve.

There was so much he wanted to tell her. No way it would all fit into a measly letter. At the moment he couldn't understand why the written word held so much appeal to people, why love poems and sonnets were created, why Shakespeare was so revered. It paled so much in comparison to actually holding the one you loved in your arms, entering her, making her cry out your name, emptying yourself into her.

It wasn't all about the sex, of course. The day-to-day routines held special significance when you were with the one you wanted. He had never been grocery shopping with her, but he was sure there would be some kind of magic in it.

What had he done? He knew what he had done. He'd fucked it up since he beginning. And why? Because he hadn't trusted her. Because he had let someone who didn't deserve his love crush him like a bug, and he had never recovered.

He thought back to the day it all came crashing down around him. His heart constricted in his chest and if he didn't know the reason for it he would swear he was having a heart-attack.

He had come home early from a business trip. He grimaced, thinking back on it. How fucking cliché was that? He expected to drop off his things and surprise Parker at school. He snuck into the house stealthily, disarming the alarm and moving silently past the kitchen to the bedrooms in the back. Rebecca always liked surprises and she claimed that his sniper training kind of turned her on. He wasn't all that thrilled about that, considering he had lived through the actual life and death experiences, but he wanted to make her happy. And that's what one did, right? You left your comfort zone if a loved one needed it.

Getting closer, he could hear the TV going, and thought he heard a porno playing. He smirked. Bad girl, Rebecca, he thought. Whacking off in the middle of the day. He was completely unprepared for what he did see.

Which was Rebecca on all fours in the middle of the bedroom with some guy fucking her in the ass and another with his cock lodged deep in her throat. He stood there frozen, watching them, none of them realizing he was there. He watched as the ass guy keep switching back and forth between her ass and her pussy and he could help but think that it looked plain unsanitary. He took in the video camera hooked up to the TV and realized with horror that the porno sounds were actually coming from Rebecca. Duplicitous monster-slut moaning in stereo surround-sound. He watched as the mouth guy grunted and pulled out coming all over Rebecca's face.

Booth took a moment to process this. A guy just came all over my wife's face. I should kick the shit out if him. Barely a moment after this thought passed, ass guy pulled out and swung her around to suck the come out of his dick. Her saw her with her eyes closed in ecstasy, letting some idiot's shit-stained cock in her mouth. As he was coming and Rebecca was swallowing it down like a good whore, she opened her eyes and finally saw Booth.

She didn't even have the decency to stop, but instead reached up and grabbed the guy's ball-sac squeezing all the juice out of him. Her eyes never left his.

He closed the door gently and left her to it. In a daze he left and picked up Parker, taking him to a friends house to play. He went back home, hoping Rebecca's playmates had left, as he wasn't sure he would be able to restrain himself from murdering them.

The blowout was huge, of course, of epic proportions. But at least he got the truth out of her. The infidelity had been occurring for a long time, and with many, many men. He closed his eyes, senses overloaded when he heard that. One was bad, but somewhat understandable if she wasn't happy. Even the disgusting little orgy he had just witnessed might be excused in the name of experimenting. Many men, however, constituted an irreparable breach of trust. Eventually he found out she had even hit on his brother Jared, who had told her to "fuck off." Later he told him, "I used those exact words Bro. The only reason I didn't tell you is that she was drunk off her ass. Figured she wasn't so slutty when she was sober."

On the plus side there was only one fight. Granted, it was a doozy, and the aftereffects would haunt him for years, but at least there were no pleas for forgiveness, no rounds of repeats to endure.

The sticking point was, of course, Parker. At the time he thought there was no way he'd leave his precious boy with such an obviously deranged bitch. After consulting with his lawyer though, he realized taking full custody wouldn't be possible. Rebecca might be an unfaithful sociopath but her record was spotless and she was a dedicated and loving mother to Parker, even Booth had to admit that. He, however, traveled all the time. He would never be able to give him a stable home. So he struck a deal with her. She would get full custody, but she had to promise not to ever let Parker find out how they got divorced and would behave herself around him. She also had to accept that periodically Booth would be using PI's to make sure she was complying. A generous settlement agreement helped sweetened the pot. Greed trumped personal freedom.

So Rebecca got Parker, the house, a car, and an obscene amount of alimony. And Booth got...nothing.

Then she moved to the West Coast and he got less than nothing. Not even weekend visits with Parker. At least her new husband seemed like a good guy. Booth had made Rebecca tell him why they broke up. It didn't seem to bother him, he seemed to love her enough to trust her and believe that she'd changed. At the time, Booth shrugged. It was his funeral.

Despite missing Parker, he was glad she moved so far away. Seeing her every week when he went to pick up Parker made him moody and sad. Ms. Hawley was usually the one who talked him down off the proverbial ledge after those episodes. Her loyalty and compassion were the only reason his faith in womankind was not completely destroyed.

He wanted Temperance to know all of this. Regardless of whether she wanted to be with him.

He looked towards the desk again. So much to tell her. He'd better get started.

&$9#%

Trembling hands dropped the letter to the floor. She watched as it glided gently to the carpet in slow motion. What she had just read was so jarring, so shocking; she barely knew what to think.

Booth had been wronged. She knew it, of course. Knew that some woman, some horrible woman had tried to curse him to a lifetime of mistrust and cruelty. But it was worse than she thought. He had been betrayed in the most vile way possible and suddenly she could see why he acted the way he did. Why he had to always be in control. Why he dominated and punished women the way he did.

Bile and rage spread through her body as she thought of Rebecca. If she was not the mother of Booth's son, Brennan was convinced she would hunt her down and tear her arms off. Or at least drag her back to Booth to beg for mercy and forgiveness. Anger, though, was quickly replaced by sadness as she remembered that this was why he saw all women as potential predators, even her.

But he said he loved me, a small voice whispered, a voice she had thought was successfully pushed back to the furthest corners of her mind. Obviously it was waiting for the right moment to pipe up and dispense some wisdom.

If she thought of it, she could think of a few times when she thought he might be about to say it. One time in particular struck her. They had gone back to the restaurant where they had seen each other on that fateful night when she had decided to take the job. He dragged her back behind the curtain again but this time, instead of a brisk feel-up, he quickly lifted her dress and hooked her legs around his waist. He unzipped his fly, positioned his cock at her entrance and pushed into her fast and hard until he hit bottom. She only lasted moments before peaking. She was always so hot for him, the second his fingers twisted her clit she cried out into the hand that came up to cover her mouth. His head rocked back as he plunged into her, ecstasy washing over his features as he came inside her with a powerful thrust of his hips. When he pulled away she could see his eyes shining, looking at her like she was a goddess. She could tell he wanted to say something. Words hung in the air, unsaid words co-mingling with the scent of the sex permeating from their half-clad bodies. Instead he let the moment pass, pulling back further and laughing, telling her he was happy she was so game. That she wanted him so badly, she'd fuck him anywhere. She smacked him in the arm and adjusted her dress while he zipped up his pants. Hardly, she said, pretend miffed. Later, over dinner, he teased her more, asking her if she'd have sex with him in a church (no), in the park (yes, but under a blanket), if she'd give him a blowjob under the table (no, the tablecloths were too short), in a movie theater (no, but maybe a hand job). By the end of the meal they were howling with laughter, the other restaurant patrons giving them disapproving looks. But they didn't care, did they?

Because they were in love.

God, she was so foolish.

She reached for the phone and had the operator dial Booth's hotel. She had to talk to him. Right now, before she lost her nerve.

The operator told her Mr. Booth had already checked out that morning. Her hopeful face collapsed and her hand moved in slow motion, seemingly detached from her body, to replace the receiver. She sat for a minute at a loss before she picked up the phone to call his cell, Ms. Hawley, Angela, whomever. In mid-dial she paused, and then set the receiver gently back down in the cradle. She couldn't do it yet. There were a number of things to do before making that call.

&$9#%

"Mr. Booth, your 1 o'clock is here," Ms. Hawley announced over the intercom.

"Give me a minute."

"Yes sir."

Booth stood at the windows of his office and watched the little city ants and their taxis scurrying below. It was a beautiful autumn day, the hot weather finally breaking. The sun was shining, there was a cool breeze, and finally Seeley Booth felt he was getting his life together.

He'd stopped drinking and feeling sorry for himself. He'd kept up the running, but had added yoga. It was a humbling experience being around so many strong and flexible people, but he needed humbling, didn't he? It was good for him. He ignored the lustful looks from the class full of women and concentrated on his breath and relaxing. No doubt many of them thought him gay. That was ok by him. Right now he wasn't anything. There was only one woman he desired. The rest were all invisible.

He heard a soft knock at the door. "Come in," he called out.

Jack Hodgins burst through the door belying the timidity with which he knocked. "Booth! How the hell are ya?" He strode over and grasped Booth's hand pumping it up and down. "Good to see you again. You ready for lunch? Aw man, I got just the place picked out. It's this hole-in-the-wall burger joint, but it's in the Parker Meridian. How crazy is that?"

He continued talking a mile a minute while Booth looked on amused. At first a part of him had wanted to hang back when Hodgins called him for lunch. It didn't seem right to co-opt her friends, no matter that both Angela and Jack had assured him that eventually "Bones" would come around. But in the end, he realized he liked them, and the feeling was mutual. He could only hope she would understand.

In the meantime he was enjoying his sporadic get-togethers with Jack. He understood only about half of what he was saying, but he definitely appreciated the man's passion about his work and about his beautiful wife.

They walked the short distance to the grungy little burger place situated oddly in the lobby of a five-star hotel, then took their place in the long line that always formed during lunch.

"So, have you heard from her?" Booth said, trying to sound casual. He asked this every time he saw him and the answer was almost always no. He studied the menu pretending he might order something besides the world-famous burgers.

"Yes, actually."

Booth's head whipped around so fast he almost gave himself whiplash.

Jack continued, his eyes fixed on the menu as well. "She called Angela a few days ago. She's still in Tokyo. That's all I know."

Booth's heart sank. She wasn't coming back. "Did she say anything about me?"

"Yes, she asked how you were."

His heart rose again to its proper place. "What did Angela tell her?"

"Same thing she did last time. That you love her and want her to come home." He paused. " She didn't reply, " he added quickly before Booth could ask.

"Same response as last time," he replied, his voice flat. He plunged into depression again. All this seesawing was making him dizzy.

Jack spoke again, patting his sleeve awkwardly. "She'll come back, don't worry." His eyes were full of understanding and sympathy for his new friend.

"Yeah," Booth replied. "I hope you're right."

&$9%#

The jet hit the pavement smoothly but emitted a high-pitched scream like a panther that made Brennan jump an inch off her seat. She exhaled shakily, thankful the long flight was finally over and she was home. Well, home being D.C. for now. Angela should be waiting for her, car ready, willing to take her immediately to anywhere her heart desired.

To Booth, she thought, and her heart leapt up. She could have flown directly to New York, and she wasn't sure why she didn't. Maybe it seemed a bit too desperate. She wanted to get acclimated, recover from jet lag and then find him and jump his bones.

Sure enough, Angela was waiting by the exit with a giant sign decorated as tacky as possible with balloons and glitter writing, that said 'Welcome home Bones!' Brennan wasn't sure just how many exclamation points there were, but it was a lot. When Angela saw Brennan she squealed and jumped up and down, waving madly. Once Brennan neared, she dropped the sign and gave her a big bear hug. "I am so happy you're home honey!" Brennan gave her a half-hearted hug back. Angela pulled back to look at her. Her expression turned serious as she scanned her friend's tired face.

Brennan, reading her mind, disengaged from the hug and readjusted her shoulder bag. "It's just jetlag." She smiled weakly, taking her friend's hand. "I'm very, very happy to be home." Implicit in that statement was her joy and nervousness at the imminent reunion with Booth.

Angela picked up the handle of Brennan's carry-on, walking them out of the terminal. "So do you want to see him right away? I'm sure he'd fly down tonight."

Brennan stopped suddenly, stricken with panic. "Did you tell him I'm coming?"

Angela frowned, "No, but I don't see why not. Isn't that why you came back?"

Distracted, Brennan looked out into the distance at other planes taking off and landing. "Yes, but it has to be on my terms. Besides there is one more thing I have to do."

$&9%#

Brennan pulled her scarf more securely around her neck. Winter was fast on the heels of fall, and warm coats and hats were being dragged out of the back of closets all over the City. Despite the bitter weather, the City was alive with activity. Hordes of tourists blocked sidewalks, street vendors did a bang-up business in cheap pashminas, and card games continued with the participants huddled over the tables like roaring fires.

The cold wind hardly bothered Brennan though. She was warm, happy, and in love. And now she was going to him. Would be with him in moments.

Angela hadn't thought it such a great idea to surprise him, but Brennan didn't think so. He loved her, right? He was going to be shocked for sure, but she knew the moment after would find them falling into each other's arms, a la movie dénouement, credits rolling.

She slowed down as she approached the restaurant Ms. Hawley had told her Booth was dining. Ms. Hawley was surprised and thrilled to hear from Brennan, they talked for a half-hour before Brennan worked up the nerve to ask where she might find him. Ms. Hawley was only more than happy to tell her. She had seen her boss suffer too much in the past months, she was sure this was the woman for him, and she was going to help make it happen. She told Brennan she thought it might be a client dinner, but he definitely wouldn't mind being interrupted by her.

So now she stood in front of the big picture windows and peered in, scanning the crowd of diners. It was a large brasserie, packed to the gills, so it was difficult to find him. But like a magnet was guiding her, she zeroed in on the back of his head and his broad shoulders, ecstasy coursing through her veins. Before she could move, however, she saw the beautiful woman across the booth from him lean over and place a hand suggestively on his arm.

Fear and shock tore through her. She closed her eyes and opened them again, looking at the woman, hoping this time she wouldn't be quite so...so...sexy. That she would have aged a decade, would be sporting a hairy mole or have bad teeth. No. She was very beautiful. Sultry even, with a v-neck pink silk blouse plunging down to reveal two pert globes peeking out, long blonde hair that fell past her shoulders and big pouty red lips. Pouty lips that pursed out further when she reacted to something Booth had said. Brennan looked hard at the scene before her, analyzing it. Yes, the woman was definitely flirting with him.

Brennan backed up two steps and swung around till her back hit the wall of the restaurant. Ms. Hawley was wrong. This wasn't a client meeting.

It was a date.

She lurched towards the curb, certain she was going to throw up in the gutter. Dry heaves wracked through her body as she fought to control the onslaught of tears. Tourists veered a wide circle around her, but no one stopped to ask the beautiful woman in the black cashmere coat why she was about to throw up in the street.

She stood up, throwing her head back and gulping in big gusts of cold air. How could she be so stupid? she thought, walking away quickly from what was, in her opinion, a crime scene. She hadn't contacted him. Had forbid Angela to tell him anything about her plans. Of course he had moved on. He was single, rich, and attractive. He must have women throwing themselves at him.

Her stomach lurched again and she thought maybe she should get a cab before she hurled on anyone. She wasn't sure how long her stomach or the tears would hold off.

What Brennan didn't see as she fled the restaurant was the late arrival of an additional guest to the dinner. A heavy-set, handsome man shook Booth's hand then leaned down and tenderly kissed his wife on the lips.

&9#%

Two days passed and Brennan had barely left the hotel room. It took all the energy she had not to just stay under the covers, but she rallied herself to shower, get dressed, and head out to the diner on the corner for breakfast. After, however, she retreated to the hotel room. Not to lick her wounds, she told herself, but to figure out another plan. One that didn't include Booth.

She forced herself to read a new book she picked up on the lost tribes of Papua New Guinea. Every other sentence was interrupted by her chaotic thoughts, but she dragged her eyes back to the page, forcing interest before her mind zoomed off again of its own accord.

A sharp knock at the door startled her. She assumed it was Angela who had tracked her down and was prepared to simultaneously offer comfort and chastise her for never calling. Brennan strode to the door and flung it open, her mouth ready to head her off at the pass with a preemptive apology and brisk dismissal of her heartache.

She was surprised to see Ms. Hawley standing their, her plum colored suit as starched and spotless as ever.

"Ms. Hawley," Brennan sputtered out. "What are you doing here?" Immediately Brennan realized her lack of manners. "I mean, would you like to come in?"

"Yes, thank you," she replied as she stepped over the threshold. "Please call me Joan."

"Ok. Joan. Can I offer you anything to drink? I have..." her eyes frantically scanned the room and finding nothing suitable, continued sheepishly, "tap water and a warm Coke."

"No thank you," she replied as she sat on the only chair in the room. Her hands were crossed primly on her lap giving her the appearance of a much older woman, far beyond her 50 something years.

"I take it didn't go well the other night?"

Brennan laughed nervously. "No. No it didn't. I think you were mistaken. It wasn't a client her was seeing. It was a date." Brennan averted her eyes, suddenly finding the drapes fascinating.

"What happened?"

Brennan told her of the events of the night, leaving out the dry heaving in the gutter. "So you see, I was wrong to believe he would wait for me, that he truly loves me." Her breath hitched in her throat and she found it hard to continue. "He's moved on," she said, her eyes locked on the other woman's. "I can hardly blame him. I was the one who ran away. I was the one who rejected him in Tokyo, who never contacted him, who never let him know..." She couldn't continue as the tears spilled down her face. Ms. Hawley reached into her purse and handed her a tissue.

"My dear," Ms. Hawley said quietly. "You were wrong."

Brennan's head shot up and her gaze fixed on the other woman. "What do you mean?"

"He wasn't on a date. He was with a client."

"But she was so flirty with him." She wanted to say slutty, but didn't think she could use that word in front of Ms. Hawley. "I saw how she was with him."

"Her husband arrived late. She has no designs on him. I checked. He told me about the dinner and how her Southern Belle manners makes her appear more familiar than she really is."

Brennan felt all the breath leave her body in a big whoosh. "Really?" she said quietly, hopefully.

"Really." Ms. Hawley's eyes shined with mirrored happiness.

"Did you tell him about me?"

"No. I didn't feel it was my place."

Brennan paused, biting her lip. "What do you think I should do?"

Ms. Hawley smiled a conspiratorial smile. "I'm so glad you asked. I have an idea."

&9%#

Ms. Hawley sat at her desk at precisely 9 AM as she always did, coffee in hand, reviewing the day's schedule, waiting for Mr. Booth to arrive. His schedule varied and sometimes he worked from home, but she hoped today wasn't one of those days.

She was relieved to hear his voice as he left the elevator, chatting with a sales analyst who worked on the opposite side of the floor. She wiggled in her chair, trying to relax, and took on a disinterested air as he approached.

"Good morning, Ms. Hawley," he said, his voice more chipper than usual. She looked up into his eyes and saw that he looked marginally better than he normally did. His brown eyes still seemed sad, but his spirits seemed higher.

"How did the meeting go?" she asked as casually as she could.

"As my father used to say, 'fan-damn-tastic'. Last night we reeled in a big one. You should expect a slew of calls from his people to finish everything up." While he spoke, he stood, like he always did, next to her desk looking at the appointments for the day.

He frowned, leaning forward to tap his finger on her monitor. "What's this?" he said, indicating an appointment at 11 AM. "I thought I told you to keep that clear. I gotta review all of those Q3 reports I've been putting off."

"Well," she said, choosing her words carefully, "You need to review a job applicant that Stevens sent along."

His lips drew into a thin line. "What position?" he said quietly, his voice at a dangerous octave.

"The EVP position with development."

He chose his words carefully. "I thought I told you that position was permanently closed."

"Stevens knew that. But I think he really needs the help. He asked me to slide it in while he's on his honeymoon in Bali." Ms. Hawley gave thanks to both God for arranging it, and for Richard Stevens, for being conveniently out of the country.

He looked closely at her and she wasn't sure if he could tell she was lying through her teeth. She knew from watching NOVA that people who lie tend to keep eye contact too long, so she shifted her attention down to her monitor dismissing him. She could hear him grumbling under his breath as he walked into his office closing the door.

She sighed heavily with relief and picked up her phone. Time for phase two.

&$9%#

Booth continued to grumble for the rest of the morning. His hard-won good mood of landing a big business deal evaporated, leaving behind a sour grudge at nothing in particular. He wasn't sure he could go through with the interview, but the look Ms. Hawley gave him when he tried to slough it off made him keep his fears to himself. It was the look she rarely gave him, the 'I-will-brook-no-argument' look. He never ignored that look.

As he approached her desk, she told him his next appointment was waiting for him in his office. She didn't, however, look up from her computer or offer him a greeting as she normally would. Instead, she stood up and grabbed her handbag out of the top-most drawer. "If you wouldn't mind, I need to take an early lunch break."

"Um, ok." She was acting strangely, avoiding his eyes. His sniper sense kicked in. "What's going on Joan?" He only used her given name in rare circumstances, normally when he was pissed at other people in the company and taking out his snippiness on her.

She gave him a blank look. "I don't know what you mean." She didn't wait to be interrogated further but moved past him towards the elevators with the same steady gait and grace she normally possessed.

Booth watched her go, the frown that arrived first thing in the morning etched deeper on his face.

He took a moment to gather himself and reached for the doorknob.

Once inside, it took him a minute for his eyes to adjust as all the lights had been turned off. The light from the windows was the only illumination, casting deep shadows in the corners. His eyes rested on a figure sitting at the conference table and his breath hitched in his throat.

She was here.

Sitting half in shadow, her face was turned towards him and the look of resolve and hardness made him step back, surprised. She was perfectly still, so still that he felt like if he turned on the lights she would disappear in a puff of smoke.

He wanted to smile, to say something to her, but her expression was so grim and unfathomable that he could only think to himself, she's not coming back to me. She's here for another reason.

She looked amazing, though. His eyes were starved for her and took in every inch of her he could see. Her brown hair was longer but just as soft and lush, her skin still creamy and flawless, her big blue eyes luminous. But they were unreadable, betraying nothing of what she might be feeling.

If she was feeling anything at all, he thought bitterly.

Brennan kept her gaze steady and cold tying desperately to ward off the storm of emotions she felt upon seeing his face after so long an absence. It was hard to not just jump in his arms and kiss him to death, but she needed to know. She needed to know if he wanted her in the same way, if he would do anything for her, as she had for him.

"Why are you here?" he asked quietly. Might as well not pretend she's happy to see me, he thought grudgingly.

She smiled indifferently. "Don't you think I'm here to interview for the job?"

He snorted and moved around his desk to sit down. "I highly doubt that's why you're here," he said, his patience thinning. It was impossible to be in the same room with her without yanking her into his arms and kissing the daylights out of her. She didn't seem to want that though, and it was pissing him off. "I kept away from you, like you asked," he spit out.

"Yes, and I appreciate it."

She said nothing else, just fixed those big blue eyes on him, trying to make him squirm. She wanted him totally unprepared for what she was going to ask of him next.

"What if," she said, slowly rising from her chair and walking towards the front of his desk, "I'm interviewing you?"

His head tilted to the side. "I don't get it."

"I was a good employee, yes, Mr. Booth? I did anything you ever asked, right? I never said no, no matter how depraved or humiliating the task was?"

His head tilted back slightly, chin raised. He just looked at her, eyes now as hard as hers. No way he was answering that question.

She put her hands on the desk and leaned forward. "What if," she continued, "I wanted you to beg for it? Beg for the humiliation you showed me? Beg for the pain? Would you do it? Would you do it for me?"

Simultaneously Booth's jaw dropped and his pants tented. His eyes roved over her figure. Her blouse was green silk, too low cut to be office wear, he could see that now. She was wearing a pair of black trousers. He wasn't sure he had ever seen her in pants. He never let her wear them before.

He brought his gaze back to her eyes searching them for some hint of gentleness. There was none.

It didn't matter though, how cold and guarded she was. He loved her, and knew what she was asking of him. He would worship at her feet if that were what she wanted. He would beg for any kind of pain she could dish out, if that satisfied even a small part of her. Instead of saying all this he just said, "Yes."

She put her weight on her hands and effortlessly hopped up on the desk to a crouching position. Then she stood.

"Stand up," she ordered, and Booth pushed the chair back and stood looking up at his towering goddess. "Strip."

He quickly divested himself of clothes and stood before her, his cock already rigid and bobbing at attention. Her eyes swept over him, over his stomach with the ripping cords of muscles, over his strong thighs, over his shoulders, the ones she clung to so many times, that were just as wide and strapping as she remembered. He was a perfect male specimen. And he was hers.

"Stroke yourself." He flushed, feeling every inch of his nakedness but took his thick cock in his hand and began a long slow glide of his hand from the root to the tip. Watching him, Brennan felt a flush of her own as her womb began to pulse with need. She watched him for a few moments, noticed that he was moving too fast and reprimanded him. "Tsk tsk, Booth. We can't have that kind of satisfaction this soon can we? Besides, you didn't ask for permission."

Cock in hand, it occurred to Booth she was probably going to spank him. He wasn't sure if that terrified him or turned him on like hell. Or both.

"Come here," she said. She walked to the edge of the desk and as he walked forward his face inches from her crotch. She grabbed him by the hair and roughly ground his face into her pussy. "While I'm contemplating your punishment I would like you to make me come."

She drew his hand to the button on her pants and fingers fumbling he slid them down her legs, gritting his teeth to stop himself from tearing them from her body. This was her fantasy, he had to remember that, but he wanted to taste her pussy so badly he thought he might actually be drooling. He could smell her muskiness through her pants when she held him against her and it nearly drove him wild.

He forced his hands to go slow and steady as he shed one leg then the other from his beautiful goddess. She was wearing red low cut hip huggers that were so delicious looking Booth wondered why he ever outlawed panties in the first place.

He went to remove them, but she swatted his hand away. "Work around them," she said harshly. She wasn't ready to be naked around him, just yet. She wanted to keep the upper hand, at least for a little while longer. Total nakedness would lead quickly to abandonment of plan and immediate impalement on his cock.

With the tips of his fingers he pushed aside the wispy material and buried his face into her dripping wet pussy, slick and swollen with need. His tongue lapped up her juices and trailed around the folds like it was getting reacquainted with a long lost friend. He began eating her out, taking big soft bites of the meat of her pussy, making her moan and thrust her hips forward into his face. He closed his eyes, letting the taste of her permeate every sense.

His hands came around to grind her ass into his face further. He didn't see the need to breathe and would happily suffocate trapped between this woman's thighs. His tongue trailed further up to her clit and it swirled the bud around before sucking it up into his mouth. She gasped and threaded her fingers through his hair, pulling him even closer. Two fingers found her folds and thrust up hard into her center. She felt her entire body shudder and her head tipped back, not with orgasm, but with overwhelming joy that this man whom she loved, had entered her once more, even if it was just with his fingers. Fingers pumping in and out and mouth latched to her clit sucking with a pulsing rhythm, it didn't take long before Brennan peaked with such intensity, the orgasm seemed to last for minutes, instead of mere seconds. She felt her juices pool onto his tongue as he lapped them up like the good dog she was treating him as.

She shuddered, her body arched over him, clutching at his head like she was holding on for dear life. If this is part of my punishment, he thought, I hope it can go on forever.

She broke apart suddenly, remembering her mission, resisting the urge to cling to him. She pushed him away from her and forced him down into the chair. Jumping down, she leaned over him, grabbing his cock and stroking it slowly. "You, Seeley Booth, are going to pay for every humiliating moment you gave me. You'll pay for every girl you spanked raw, for every throat you forced your cock down. She kneeled in front of him and drew him into her mouth, sucking hard on the head. His cock was so hard it was almost turning purple with engorgement. He let out a small moan at feeling her hot little mouth on him now taking him fully in and bobbing up and down.

At the sound of the moan she stopped and dug her nails deeply into his thighs. "No noise. Not one sound should pass those dirty lips of yours, are we clear?"

He nodded. His brain had ceased to function, he only wanted to please her. He couldn't believe how much this was turning him on.

"Stand up and close your eyes." He did as he was told. He heard her walking around the room, heard a bag unzip and heard her returning. There was a rustle of clothing, and then he felt her lean into him and gather his arms around her. She was naked and felt glorious against his skin, the hard peaks of her nipples brushed against his chest, her hair fell over his shoulders. Of their own accord his hands came up to cup her bottom, pulling her to him. The next moan was her own as she began to move against him, grinding his erection against her soft belly. Her head tilted up to his and she captured his mouth in a long soulful kiss, sliding her tongue past the barrier of his lips to plunge into the hot depths. He clutched her tighter, returning the grind, desperate to enter her, to return home.

She stepped back for a moment then retuned to him, leaning in to kiss him softly on the side of the mouth. Then he felt her draw his hands together and before he realized what was happening she slipped a plastic cuff on him like they use on police shows. His eyes flew open and down as he assessed his situation. She smirked at him, and backed away, her eyes full of ill intent. He knew then he was in for a world of pain.

For Booth, up until that moment he felt like had some semblance of control. Like he had the power to turn the turn the tables if he wished. Maybe over-power her, flip her around and fuck her senseless on the desk. But now he was trapped, defenseless, and naked. And about to be whipped, he reminded himself with a grimace. It was a position he never, ever expected to find himself in. When he looked at her though, he knew why he was here. He watched her circle him, looking intently for weak spots on his body to torture. For this woman he would do anything. Anything she needed to get whatever demons she had lurking within her exercised. He was willing to be vulnerable for her, let his own insecurities be exposed and mocked, let his body be marked and broken.

She kicked the chair out of the way and continued to circle him. "See, in cheesy pornos, this would be the moment I'd spank you with a feather and then make you beg me for an orgasm. But we both know it's not going down like that. I'm going to inflict as much pain on you as you have on every single woman you've ever fucked. Real pain, not pretend sexy pain." She was behind him as she spoke the last sentence and he was happy she did not see how hard he swallowed, for the first time feeling fear at the pain that was coming.

He wasn't prepared for the next moment when a riding crop nearly tore through the flesh of his upper back.

"Jesus H. Christ that hurt," he said, forgetting his promise to be silent.

"What did you say?" Suddenly she was right in his face, her own face red, expression furious.

"Nothing. Sorry."

"I'm afraid you just made it much worse for yourself, little boy." She stretched out that last word, enjoying the flinch it evoked. She noted how his cock twitched.

She walked around him again, momentarily forgetting her plan for total Booth domination and more to appreciate his physique. She had almost forgotten how perfect his body was, especially without clothes. She felt her pussy gush as she surveyed his broad chest that narrowed to rippled abs then further down to his beautiful cock standing at attention as if it heard her clarion call. Moving behind him she couldn't help but reach out and squeeze both buttocks with her hands, slipping a finger between his ass cheeks to brush the puckered hole with her pinky. He bucked forward, careful to keep his hands away from his cock. She reached around with a free hand and began to stroke it for him, leaning her cheek against his back, her nipples grazing his flesh. Bringing her lips to his shoulders she began to suck hard, leaving a trail of hickies across the broad expanse. She heard him groan softly and chuckled as she felt him push his hips forward, trying to accelerate the pace.

She removed her hand from his ass and grabbed the crop from the desk. Keeping a firm grip and steady rhythm on his cock, she thrashed him hard across the buttocks noting with satisfaction the welt that instantly appeared. He cried out, his hips bucking forward and his cock pulsing in her hand.

The whip came down again, and Booth's eyelashes fluttered as he struggled to keep himself in check, from both creaming all over the carpet and shouting Brennan's name in a hoarse cry that would be heard all over the building.

The blows rained down steadier now as she continued to stroke his cock or fondle his ball sac, but paused when she sensed his orgasm was nearing. His back was as red as a stop sign and long welts crisscrossed the expanse and continued past his buttocks to his upper thighs. She inspected his face, watched his eyes shut tightly each time he took a blow. Meanwhile she kept up a stead stream of insults and humiliations. "You're such a bad boy Seeley, hurting all those women, you should be ashamed." "You like this, don't you? You're nothing but a worthless slut, yes slut…just like the women you degrade…."

He never said a word or made a sound, not a moan or a plea for her to stop. Inside fires had broken out and were raging uncontrolled. He was turned on, disgusted with himself, furious at her, sick with wanting, ashamed of his past actions, desperate to come, and finally nearly moved to tears by his wanting of her.

He broke the silence as she stopped the whipping and continued the slow glide of her palm against his hard member. "Please," he whispered softly, hoping she could hear.

She stopped her hand. "What did you say," she said, her voice now tinged with almost as much desperation as his. Her body was throbbing and nearing the boiling point.

"Please," he repeated. He couldn't look at her.

Her hand cupped his balls as she whispered into his ear. "Yes, my love, you may come. But only because I need you hard as nails for Act 2." His eyes fluttered as she said that, fear mixed with intense longing.

Standing in front of him, she stroked him harder and faster, one hand on his cock, the other massaging his balls. She nuzzled and sucked softly on a tender part of his neck causing shivers to collide with the furious thumping of his heart and his cock. She rubbed her body up and down his rhythmically, each slide of her breasts against his chest setting his nerve endings on fire.

Feeling him shudder, she dropped to her knees and sucked his cock into her mouth, keeping up the furious pumping with her hand. He cried out and exploded into her mouth, rivers of come sliding down her throat as she looked up into his eyes and swallowed it all down. His hands came up to bury themselves in her hair, his eyes fixed on hers as she drank in the last of him. He stroked her hair and pushed it back behind her ears and smiled at her. She stood and pecked him on the lips.

Her eyes darkened. "Ready for Act 2?"

His smile faltered as he wondered what else she had up her sleeve.

At the look of the light dimming in his eyes, she softened, pushing him back into the chair. "Fuck Act 2," she said, and walked to the desk to retrieve scissors. She cut off the handcuffs and after throwing the scissors back on the desk climbed onto his lap straddling him. His cock was hard again and hot against her belly and she purred, the sound low and hot and reverberating from her breast to his. Her hands wrapped themselves in his hair as she captured his lips in a crushing kiss.

Tentatively his hands came up to cup her bottom, his palms caressing the milky soft globes. His hands roved her body, as if it were a blind man memorizing a face. He had missed every inch of her, wanted to keep touching her, afraid she might disappear, like if he didn't map every curve and hill she would cease to exist.

He reached between them and fingers locked on the little bundle of nerves, stroked rapidly. She inched back on his thighs so he could bring his other hand down to dive into her slick slit. His eyes rolled back in his head when he felt how hot and wet she was for him. She held onto his shoulders, eyes squeezed shut, breasts bobbing in his face as she rode his fingers. God, she was so glorious, he thought, gazing worshipfully up at her.

Her entire being contracted and released in an orgasm so powerful she saw stars behind her eyes and thought she might pass out. She felt the come pour out of her onto his hand, something she had never felt before and attributed to pent up passion. He smeared it all over her pussy, growling in her ear.

Without a word or sound she scooched forward and rising up positioned herself on the tip of his cock. She could feel his cock pulsing against her slit. Her eyes locked on his as she lowered herself down on him slowly and with a deep sigh. She was finally home.

Eyes locked, they rode through the gathering storm together. His hands were everywhere on her, twisting her nipples, pinching her clit, and finally a single digit lodged in her ass sent her over the edge again, consciousness threatened again, even though she never wanted him to stop.

The rhythm quickened, Booth's hands now on her hips, picked her up and crashed her again and again on his cock. He didn't think he could hold out much longer. A moment later he heard her strangled cry and he let himself go with a howl, furiously thrusting into her till he fell over the edge, his mouth fused to her, his seed lodging deep in her womb. At that moment he knew they were bound to each other for life, as there seemed to be no end to her body and the start of his.

Afterwards they clung so desperately to each other it might appear to an outsider to be tearful goodbye instead of a joyful homecoming.

They murmured unintelligible words into each other's bodies, the slick of their sweat drying and adhering them to each other. She nuzzled into his throat and he thought he heard her say 'I love you'.

He pulled back and lifted her chin to meet his eyes, his eyes that begged her to repeat it. To mean it.

She swallowed, feeling as though her life was on the line. As dramatic as it sounded in her head, her life without him would be cold, barren. "I do," she whispered, sounding as nervous as would-be bride. "I love you." Her eyes were shining, not with tears, but with the light that was in her bursting forth.

The tears that formed in Booth's eyes were real tears, his heart and lungs and loins roaring forth all at once. He felt him self growing hard inside her, incredibly hard, and moaned as he felt her shift her hips and grind against him. His hands reached up to grasp her face in a soft kiss.

They moved together slowly and gently this time, taking all the time in the world, because they knew they had it.

He picked her up and laid her gently on the floor and climbed on top of her, slipping back inside of her. They made love in the missionary position, not a favorite for either of them in the past, but now seemed to hold the most intimacy. Their faces were inches apart, and when they weren't kissing, they gazed into each other's eyes, reveling in the sight of each other. He rolled her over and watched her undulate on top of him, her ass rising and falling on his cock. His fingers worked between them and twisted her clit as she writhed above him, like a sea goddess. He spilled himself into her when he heard her cry of passion.

As they lay panting on the floor next to the desk she lifted her head from his chest with a slightly annoyed expression on her face.

"So," she said. "Do you love me?"

He hugged her tighter. "I love you Temperance Brennan. I want to marry you and have babies with you and make love in the back of cars and travel the world and never leave your side. I want to take care of you when you're sick, celebrate success and milestones with you and," he paused, "I even promise to love you with morning breath."

She smiled and batted him playfully on the shoulder. "My morning breath isn't that bad."

"Oh, I beg to differ."

She growled, in mock anger, "At least I'm kind enough to put up with your dragon breath without complaint."

"Tit for tat will only get you tickled." He rolled over on top of her and dug a finger painfully under her arm. She squealed with laughter, trying to squirm away from him, but his heavier body held her in place.

"Ok, ok, I give," she panted, helpless from laughter.

His eyes turned serious. "Uncle?"

Remembered grief shot through her like a blinding light. "Booth, I'm so sorry. I didn't want to hurt you like that, I was so confused about what this was, is. And what my role, my part was. "

"Shhh," he said, reaching a hand to splay her long hair across the carpet. "It doesn't matter now."

"It does. I had no idea what you went through with Rebecca and I never bothered to ask. That was so wrong. I'm so sorry."

She added, "Would you consider forgiving me?"

Rolling off her, he pulled her onto his lap. "Already done, my love. In fact, I've blamed myself more for this mess than you. I was so set in controlling everything and every woman around me, I waited until it was almost too late to notice the one woman who would love me totally, who would never betray me. The question is, do you forgive me?"

"Yes," she said quietly, her eyes saying far more than her lips.

His hand came up to cup her breast as they exchanged a deep soulful kiss that would have made her knees collapse if she weren't already sitting down.

His kisses trailed down her neck. "So does that mean you'll accept the job?" he said half in jest.

"No."

His head shot up. "No?" he replied, surprised.

"I'm going back to school."

"For business?"

"No, for forensic anthology. I want to study the skeletal evolution of ancient cultures."

"Huh. So I guess I really can start calling you 'Bones' now."

Her brow furrowed slightly. "Who told you that was my nickname?" The amused look on his face made it obvious, and she blushed, "Never mind. You can call me Bones if I can call you Booth."

"Deal. Booth and Bones. It has a nice ring to it."

She snuggled into him, giving him better access to her neck, which he continued to pepper with kisses.

He looked up suddenly into her eyes. "I'm your slave, you know that don't you?" he said, intensity making his voice crack with need.

"And I'm yours."

"Does that mean I still get to spank you?" He nuzzled her ear with his nose, his lips trailing a line of soft kisses that made a shiver race up her spine.

"Yes, but only when I've been bad." She wriggled her bottom on his lap provocatively.

He grinned impishly and reached a hand down to squeeze her ass. "Let's see if we can find a way for you to misbehave."

THE END

&%$9#

Author's note: I do so hope you've enjoyed this smutty little interlude with our favorite couple. Be sure to leave a review if you'd like.


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